Tainted Gem
by emenya123
Summary: Baby Harry has defeated Lord Voldemort, but a little girl by the name of Hermione Granger is being raised as his heiress to bring him back. The boy-who-lived can only unknowingly try to pull her out of the darkness.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Disclaimer: God how I wish I owned Harry Potter, but alas I do not. That privilege belongs to JK. But I can claim the plot can't I?

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Thunder boomed and lightning flashed, framing an ominous portrait of the overcast skies of London. As the heavens boiled and torrential rains fell in chaotic turmoil, an important man sat on the top of a hill in deep contemplation. He sat cross-legged, eyes closed, ignorant of the water pounding around him, and dark as the midnight hue the sky had become. As if sensing the man's mood, the rain continued to flow; not a steady drum but a roar of epic proportions. Yet the man was still oblivious. It was to be expected: The Dark Lord was brooding.

"_**The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches...Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies...**__**"**_The cursed words of the prophecy reverberated in his head. Damn Severus and his information. But then he sighed inwardly. He couldn't blame Severus, his most accomplished spy, for bringing him news of the utmost importance. "_Although I could Crucio him,"_he inwardly smirked.

Still though, how could this be possible? He had carefully and painstakingly concocted his plan to rule Britain and than all Wizarding Europe. For half a century he had plotted and waited, biding his time before he soon thrust himself and his Death Eaters to the thick of war. And victory tasted so close he thought ruefully. The ministry was as good as dead and during the last raid he had led himself, Dumbledore and his blasted order had left covering in fear. Oh yes sir, the war was as good as his!

And then just today came the news, he would be vanquished by a mere child, heir of one of his stupid enemies no less. It was almost laughable, but he didn't get to where he had become by disregarding branches of magic, no matter how pitiful they seemed. No, this prophecy would become a serious hinderence to the dreams he had harbored on since his days at the orphanage. Prophecies were nothing to scoff at. He needed to prepare for the worst.

As the hour past into ten, the storm clouds kept rumbling on, as if taunting Voldemort of his coming demise. He was still there, pondering his predicament, when his faithful servant appeared over the hill.

"My Lord," Bellatrix whispered, thick, black hair falling strewn over her head and face as she bowed toward her master. Her usually immaculate black duel robes were singed and vicious slash marks crisscrossed them, tinged with blood. Her matte black combat boots, laced to her thighs, were caked with mud and the left one appeared scorched.

"You may rise Bella" Voldemort commanded, calculating crimson eyes taking in her visage. Her normally sadistic pale face was coated in an a layer of soot, and her frizzled hair combined with her battered wear completed her haggard look. But her eyes, her gleaming black eyes spoke different. They still gleamed as if they fed off of blood lust, and the maniacal sparkle of insane victory still lingered. "I take that tonight was a success."

"Yes my Lord," she breathed, ever so eager to please her Lord. "A minor difficulty but still a victory none the less."

At that he nodded and glanced over to where the moon should have been, if not for the accursed clouds. He still wanted to think, but Bellatrix seemed she would wait patiently. "What mishap presented itself," he offered in a disinterested tone.

"Well for one my Lord,-" she began nervously, "-Dumbledore showed up himself to the fight."

"Hmm," he stated, not really seeing the problem. Sure the proclaimed savior of the light only graced an appearance when he himself was present, but who knows. The order and the aurors were getting desperate. Not really a cause for concern. "And?" he said, sensing there was more.

"Yes my Lord, and Potter was there-"

He nodded, yes Potter a prime candidate of the thrice defied list. He would need to keep an eye on him.

"-And the thing is-" she continued, "-Is that Dumbledore didn't actually come to fight. He apparated in the heat of the battle and called for Potter. He found him, for I had been dueling him at the time, and disapparated out with him without so much as an exclamation."

Voldemort blanched and his heart started to quicken as he received this new piece of information. _Could this be possible? _he wondered, shocked. If that old coot knew, the degree of urgency might just have gotten ratcheted up a notch. And if he was taking away James now, he must be hiding the others who might fulfill the prophecy. _"The bastard!" _he seethed. He needed to think. He needed to prepare. He needed to plot. All of his Slytherin traits would be needed and he must start now.

"This is an interesting turn of developments Bella," he began. "That is all for now, I must be left to think."

"Of course my Lord." And with that she retreated back down the hill.

Voldemort leaned back and let loose a collection of air. A course of action was slowly starting to develop. He needed to kill the ones mentioned in the prophecy, that much was certain. Through his mind he went through the possible names. Dumbledore. Only God knows how many times the old warlock had defied him he mused. But Dumbledore having children? Fat chance of that happening he remarked. So no. Potter he knew about. His third stand coming only a few weeks ago on the steps of the behemoth that was Gringotts. And weren't there rumors that his wife, that filthy mudblood, was pregnant with a child? He'd have Wormtail inquire about that one. And so that left the Longbottoms. But they were an ambiguous case to be honest. He hadn't faced them three times per se, only twice but they did fight of a large group of his inner circle. Did that count as defying in a way? Better to be safe than sorry. He also needed to prepare his "remainder" if you will. On the slim possibility that he would perish, he would need insurance. It was with that thought that he stood in a flourish. It was time for another excursion to the Gaunt's hovel.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Disclaimer: God how I wish I owned Harry Potter, but alas I do not. That privilege belongs to JK. But I can claim the plot can't I?

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It was a slightly disgusted Voldemort that trudged up the path toward the shack, a disgruntled sneer that could rival even the most fanatic Pureblood on his face. It lay in seeming ruin on top of God-forsaken hill, devoid of all life except petrified oaks and willows and the occasional murderous crow. It had the reputation of being haunted by the muggle town that wasn't to far from the house, and no one dared to approach the menacing structure. _"It was just as well,"_ Voldemort thought with a smirk. They just might die.

If the shack didn't serve a purpose he just might have destroyed it already. It was a blight, a cruel and disgusting remnant of what the esteemed house of Slytherin had once been. He could only just imagine the squalor and disgrace that the Gaunt's had wallowed in. Fallen from the the star of the most noble of the four founder's, they were not worthy of being descendants. This "home" was simply an embodiment of that.

It shouldn't have been standing, preserved as it was with numerous spells and wards, but it still looked desolate and weak. The wood of the house was sickly and rotten, and the spires of ivy and sinewy vines threatened to engulf the house. The few windows that were not broken were caked with years of grime and muck, and the cracked shutters rattled in the persistent wind. The flimsy tin roof was crumpled in places, and in other places the roof was missing entirely. The pathway leading towards the door was filled with jagged rocks and sinkholes, and the surreal ivy and vines seemed to dominate it as well. The door was scarred and leaning, gnarled and termite-ridden wood finishing off the uninviting appearance.

Voldemort exhaled slightly as he approached the residence, taking in the intoxicating signature of his dark magic that was fused throughout the wards. It was an impressive display of magic if he did say so himself. Layers upon layers of wards coated the building, some the most foul of dark magic and others just plain powerful. All to to guard his most precious of treasures.

He had finally reached the door, powerful anti-apparation wards forcing a steady jaunt up the hill, and hissed to it in Parsletounge. _"Open to me, guardian of Slytherin's heir. Your master has returned."_

A series of soft clicks met his ears after he stated the password, and the door soon vanished into the shadows in a plume of smoke. He stepped forward over the threshold, into a room just as forlorn as the outside of the house. He quickly moved and turned to a door on his left, wrinkling his nose at the smell. Another whispered hiss of _"Open" _and the door fell away just like earlier. With barely suppressed glee he stood before a wall, feeling giddy as he sensed the sickly aroma of his own magic. Like the crisp smell of burnt sugar it wafted, mixing with the acquired scent of blood. He could smell it, feel it, taste it, and even sense it. His signature was behind the wall.

"_I am here!" _he commanded. _"The son of Salazar is here!"_

And with that the wall glowed an eerie red, before phasing from opaque to translucent and then disappearing as if the wall had never existed to begin with. And in its wake emerged a small cavern; six feet tall, four feet wide, and 3 feet deep. The walls were of an illustrious black obsidian and in the the center of the new space was a stone dial infused with gold and platinum. Well if it was worthy of Voldemort than it had to be the best.

And centered on the dial's surface it was situated, pulsing as if it could sense the coming events. The Gaunt family ring, with a band of crudely fashioned gold and set with a black stone resembling a diamond. A strange mark was etched into the stone, no family crest he knew of, consisting of a circle within a triangle with a line running down the middle. It was an oddity that hinted at some foreign power not all familiar to him. He promised himself to look into that later after he won the war. There were more important matters to attend to at the moment. For before him lay his Horcrux.

"_Oh brother of mine come to me" _he directed at the ring.

There was a deafening roar of surprise and anger, Voldemort chuckled as he recognized the final yell of his father before he was ended by the merciful stillness of the _Avada Kedavra_, and then a swirling mist with dark red eyes streamed from the ring. The large plume of smoke collected and eddied near the top of the room, swirling like an angry vortex. It tumbled and pulsed then froze when Voldemort coughed.

"_Thank you. My brother, my very own soul, it is time for you to arise."_

The plume quavered as if confused for a moment then its eyes narrowed. _"Brother?" _it questioned. _"Yes you are strange, for only I should speak the great tongue of the serpents. And you...you feel of me. Your magic tastes of my own, but you are different...broken almost. What is this trickery!"_

Voldemort hissed angrily, incoherent streams spewing from his now forked tongue. _"Me, broken? The great heir of Salazar Slytherin broken?" _He clenched his fists and the smoke groaned and then flickered. _"No, you listen to me Horcrux. You are me, a fragmented section of my soul. It is time for you to rejoin me so we can do our bidding. You have been stuck in there for long, and mind you I have half a mind to keep you there but certain events have made your release imperative."_

"_As you wish Master. Now rid me from this accursed ring!"_

Voldemort nodded and with long bony fingers slid out his yew wand. It hummed with anticipation from its phoenix feather core, _the only one of its kind _he thought with reverence. _"Tolle Animam Hor" _he growled, wand pointing steadily at the ring.

A jet of pitch black light raced forth and swallowed the ring. The light spread to close around the mist and with a bang and flash of white light, it was over. The ring lay on the dial as if untouched. Voldemort's soul part looked the same, if not more wary.

"I feel...free in a way," the mist whispered, awed and in English. "I can speak!" came the exclamation at the realization.

"Yes, now you can. Your going to need a body as well. _Verto!_"

At that the plume of Voldemort's soul began to shrink and wrap itself into a tight coil, like a snake, into the ground. It coiled tight into the shape of a coin before it then grew back up, taking a human form. It shifted and boiled before taking the likeness of a man, tall with black hair and fair skin. Soon the edges of the began to fill out and soon standing before the Dark Lord was a mid-twenties year old representation of himself. His likeness blinked owlishly twice, before closing his eyes and inhaling deeply. Tom rolled his shoulders and curled his fists and after becoming satisfied he opened his eyes toward Voldemort.

"Aah it feels so good," Tom started. He then stuck out his perfectly smooth hands with a smirk. "A wand if you please."

Voldemort noticed the cunning calculation that was present in his... well his in brother's eyes. He chuckled softly. No one could mistake the soon-to-be ruler of Britain as naive.

"Yes you were ever so curious and impatient weren't you?" He removed a wand that he took from a raid earlier in the year. Twelve inches, made of willow and rigid, and composed of a dragon heartstring core. It was one of the more powerful that he had accumulated over the years. It might as well be put use somehow, even if the wielder won't benefit as much from it. Besides, soul or not, there was no chance in hell that anyone was going to even touch his wand.

"Here you go-" Voldemort said, tossing the spare wand, "-But we're going to play this by my rules."

As Tom caught the wand, it happened in an instant. Tom pulled the wand down in an expert flourish, a modified Disarming/Stinging Hex present on his lips. But Voldemort? No Voldemort, with his years of experience and raw power, was faster. As if expecting the moment, he brought his wand in a downward stabbing motion at Tom and yelled, "_Markiline!" _releasing a stream of red light.

Tom screamed in pain and crumpled to his knees, his body now racked with shivers. His new wand was still clutched tightly in his hand, but he didn't posses the strength to lift it. Voldemort kept the spell trained at Tom, red light still spewing out, as Tom breathing became more and more labored. A black, sludge-like ooze ran out through pores along Tom's body and flowed to a puddle around Voldemort's feet and gray robes before clumping together into a rigid sphere. Still on the magic stealing curse kept going, a dark curse if there every was one, and Voldemort's soul kept thrashing and wailing close to death. Then abruptly, as one would yank a fishing hook from water, Voldemort snapped his wand back up and ended the curse, leaving a panting Tom sprawled by the dial.

Voldemort then assumed an air of nonchalance, brushing off minuscule dust of his robes and neatly pocketing his wand. The black orb of Tom's excess magic bobbed silently in the air. The Dark Lord tapped it with this index finger, and it began to fold in on itself until the beach ball sized sphere became a diamond no bigger than a penny. With a snap it vanished and then he turned to Tom.

The former Horcrux gazed up at his creator, fear on the surface of his eyes and anger boiling his blood underneath. "What did you do to me," he croaked, voice sore and feeling unnaturally weak. If he were to place the feeling he would say he hadn't felt this helpless since his first year at Hogwarts. "What did you do?"

"It's called the Markiline," he stated, chuckling as Tom seemed to shrink back when he repeated the incantation. "Its Dark Magic designed to steal an lower one's magical core. Your capability for magic is about the same level as an average seventh year."

Tom hissed angrily. So that's why he felt like a first year.

Voldemort continued as if he weren't interrupted. "Your here to do my bidding. Lets get that straight. I would almost applaud you if I didn't already know you were me. I know you like the back of my hand. If anyone should know your ambitious nature then it is me, that very same ambition is coursing through my veins as we speak. You would be wise as to not forget that."

"Yes Master," came the disgruntled reply.

"Good. Now its time we leave this place, we have work to do."

He swirled on his heel and exited the room, not even questioning that Tom would follow. Tom got up, glaring daggers at his other part ahead as Voldemort's robes were leaving out of sight. Yes he did have ambition he thought, and it was really only he that was fit to rule.

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**A/N: I got the Markiline curse from Kurinoone. I love her entire trilogy by the way.**


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Disclaimer: God how I wish I owned Harry Potter, but alas I do not. That privilege belongs to JK. But I can claim the plot can't I?

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It had been over a year now since that fateful day of the prophecy, and Britain was crumbling. No it was almost collapsed. Voldemort scoffed inwardly while reflecting in his room. It was small, the size of the kitchen of an average flat, and very dark. The dark cherry wood of the walls were simple yet enough. An armchair rested by his cabinet, stiff and consisting of cold, hard metal. Comfort was for the weak after all. The cabinet was an enigma itself, so many notice-me-not charms on it that one would achieve memory if they tried to notice it. It emitted dark magic that seemed to layer the blood red carpet to those who were perceptive to it. He laughed aloud this time. Many thought his arrogance exceeded his practicality. He was arrogant enough not to be so easily known however. He didn't need a throne room, not yet. The lavish room was just for appearences. It was also loud enough to intensify the echoes of those under the Cruciatus...If he could put up with the shared quarters of the orphanage and Hogwarts, then he could easily occupy this small room until his time to reign came. And speaking of his reign...

Both the Potters (Wormtail was at least useful there) and the Longbottoms gave birth to sons, one named Harry and the other named Neville. "_Literally the death of July," _he thought, referring back to the 31st. Now it was just a wait till the perfect time to kill them. He'd wait for Halloween, almost a month away. Might as well continue on the tradition he practiced in the orphanage days.

He still remembered those days clearly. The other kids teasing "Poor Little Tommy Boy" and chattering about the candy they would get and how "Tom would never get candy... He's weird!". Kids got hurt those nights he remembered with a sigh, and what they loved the most became lost. A pet here or there, the last picture of their parents, things like that. Yes, he'd enjoy killing their babies.

A knock at his personal door, only one other knew where it was, and it swung open to reveal Tom. He was clad in black robes, with a green tinge reminiscent of his old Slytherin robes, tightened together at the neck with a silver viper clasp. He was twirling his wand in an agitated manner, a movement he had become accustomed to during his stay at the manor. It seemed as if the soul was still aging, as it had grew a bit in its already above average frame. His black hair was of course impeccably kept, much to the delight of the "victims" he worked his charm on. He was even making Bellatrix blush, and that was just downright scary.

"Is there anything I can do for you Salazar?" Voldemort questioned, using the ruse they had decided to give the Horcrux. Tom Salazar, Death Eater recruited from an unknown land. Definitely a little pretentious and so easily transparent. _"Stubborn git" _Voldemort thought.

"Yes actually, there is," came the curt reply, eyes narrowing. "It has been over a year now. When I was released, you were so quick to inform me that the war was almost over. You said you would take care of the stupid prophecy once those boys were born. _And most importantly you promised to restore my magic when the war was done" _hissing the last in Parsletongue.

"_My he seems agitated," _he thought before tsk-ing aloud. Voldemort decided that he would probably have to get him something to occupy his time. He thought about what he was doing around Tom's "age". _"Oh that's right. I was making Horcuxes. Something else then."_

"I can understand your frustration Tom, but you must be patient. Victory is so close within our hands-," he ignored the snort and eye roll from Tom and continued, "-And with it comes all of Britain. Do not fret. And yes your magic will be returned soon enough, once I have considered you deserving of it. Or rather not a threat," he finished, a hint of steel entering his voice.

"Of course, _Master,_" Tom bit out. "It is just that I expected one such as great as you to have been victorious already."

The classic insult behind the compliment. Well played, Voldemort mused. After his declaration, Tom promptly stalked out of the room. Voldemort sighed as he was left alone. No matter how much he didn't want to admit it, Tom was right. This war was dragging on. They were winning but it was still dragging. He needed to confront this prophecy and be over with it. But he still was a little bit vain. He'd do it on Halloween and he dare anyone to question him on it.

His spirits a little dimmer than their usual state, Voldemort got up and headed to the throne room. His inner circle were getting prepared to launch a massive scare in a Muggle district, known for producing a suspicious quantity of those insufferable Mudbloods. He might as well join them and get a laugh.

He briskly strode through the double arching oak doors as they melted softly at his touch. He crept through the giant room, not sparing any glances at the high backed golden throne and comforting border of stone Basilisks surrounding it and the obsidian steps. Steadily he marched over the cool silver tile; it smoked and phased with images of numerous snakes, hissing silently at his feet. He passed by the giant window enchanted to only show the moon, which was the sole source of light in the room. He moved past it all and made his way to the anteroom near the corner, the place were strategy sessions took place.

He opened the door and walked in, watching as those who were lounging moved quicker to their knees than the rest. Most of his inner circle was there, Lucius with his silky blond hair and placid mask, Bella, her eyes shining with lust, Avery and his gnarled face, Rodolphus, his body thirsting to inflict torture, Nott, brains of them, and also Severus, his mole into Dumbledore's forces. All here ready to have some fun. A Death Eater's night out.

"My Lord," Lucius stated, voice flowing like silk. "We were just completing the administering of our tactics before we engage in some...good-natured revelry."

"Yes, yes I see Lucius. Carry on."

"Will you be joining us my Lord?" Bellatrix asked hopefully.

"As a matter of fact I am. We all have been hard pressed, have we not?"

Murmurs and nods of agreement soon met his statement.

"Well then, let us go then." And with the sound of a whip they all disapparated.

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"Emma, I'm home!" came the boom of the patriarch of the Granger household. Steve Granger whistled a tune as he hung up his coat, dentist with his wife by day and book scavenger by night. His 6 foot frame, brown eyes, high cheekbones, and tousled mouse blond hair peeked in the kitchen door frame looking for his wife. He couldn't find her; he did however spot the delicious looking casarole on top of the oven. He froze thinking then shook his head and walked upstairs.

Up the mahogany steps and the first door on the right; there was only one place she could be. He soundlessly opened the door and rested his eyes on the content form of his wife staring into the crib. She was short in her pink blazer and jeans, "_Fitting snugly," _Steve thought with a smirk, her arms crossed over in front of her. Her head was cocked to the side, and thick auburn curls fell gracefully down her back. He walked up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and leaning into her, as he joined her in staring at their beautiful daughter.

And yes she was beautiful, and they was only a hint of the exquisite gem that she was to become. She had the same frizz of curls just like her mother, and when she was awake, her deep, chocolate eyes spoke of unseen intelligence. She seemed almost mystical in a way, able to to things quickly and she was almost three now. She was such an amazing child, an angel sent down just for them.

"Hey honey," was the greeting to her husband, the trust and familiarity between them so strong that she didn't even turn around. "Isn't our little baby so cute?" she squeaked softly.

"Yes she is" he agreed, twisting his wife's curls.

They stayed that way for a while, admiring their daughter's form as she basked in the moonlight.

"I'm so glad we get to spend forever with beautiful 'Mionie" Emma suddenly said. She whipped around to stare at her husband, a slight glazed look in her eye. "I just want to stay with her forever. Just to love her with all my heart. I'd be content with that. Wouldn't you?"

Steve laughed nervously at his wife's strange behavior and unhooked himself to look at her. "Of course dear. Now come let's go eat. We have an early appointment tomorrow."

At that Emma groaned and followed her husband down the stairs, perfectly normal now. "Ugh, that stupid kid Billy keeps stuffing his face with sweets, refusing to brush I might add, and his parents seem to think we are the problem. So ignorant!" she huffed, tired of the Johnson's accusations.

"Oh don't worry,- " Steve started. "-We'll-" but was cut off by a monstrous roar and the shaking of their house.

"What was that? Earthquake?"

"In England? I don't think so," he muttered nervous.

They both jumped quickly as the air was pierced with another roar and this time screams.

"This isn't good," Emma gulped, dashing with her spouse towards the living room window. What they saw frightened them to no end, and would stay ingrained in them for the rest of their short lives.

Outside the window numerous of cloaked individuals marched down the street, wreaking havoc on just about everything. Their faces were covered with haunting silver masks and all of them were holding various sticks. What was even more mind boggling was that these seemingly inconspicuous twigs were shooting out jets of brightly colored lights. Cars were overturned, blasted into the air, set on fire, or just plain vaporized. No less than four jets of light came streaking toward the fountain, the peace fountain that the citizens so fondly called it. Before it erupted in a sickly purple flame. Windows and doors were pulverized as if they were dust from the sands of time, and the agonizing screams of man, woman, and child alike filled the air, joining with the cruel laughter and strange sounding Latin words to create a death on the ears. And all the chaos was coming closer.

"We need to get out of here!" Steve yelled, finally prying his eyes away from the glass. "We need to get 'Mionie and run!"

"Okay, okay turn off these lights while I go get her."

"Fine," he frantically yelled back. "Meet me at the back door!"

They split ways and Emma bolted up the stairs scrambling for her daughter. _"Poor thing_" she though wistfully. _"She's still asleep" _She gathered her up softly and inched toward the door. She froze when she heard _voices _downstairs. One was her husband's and the other...the other was completely mind numbing.

"How the hell did you get inside of our home?!" Steve's voice roared. "Leave or I'll call the police!".

A slight chuckle met his rant and the taunting sound of it seeped up the stairs and sent shivers down Emma's spine. This was not looking good at all.

"And where is your pitiful police now you filthy muggle?" hissed the other voice. "You think the great Lord Voldemort bows to some regiment of an idiotic race?"

"Just leave us be or I may have to use force," Steve answered, cocking the familiar rifle that stayed in the kitchen cupboard. She relaxed just a little. They might be safe yet.

Voldy...Volemor...Voldemort, whatever his name was then let loose a loud bout of laughter, scaring Emma even further and unfortunately waking up baby 'Mionie who immediately started crying.

"Oh no, oh no, please be quiet my sweet," Emma said, trying to shush her daughter.

"Hmm. Your family is still here." Voldemort noted, seemingly as if talking about the weather.

"If you lay one hands on my family you filthy son of a-"

"_Avada Kedavra" _came the hiss from the man and a bright green light lit up dark house and for a second painted the walls and the room the two individuals were hiding in glow an eerie green.

"Finally. You were pathetic. Now fair lady," he began, "-We are not here play hide and seek. _Invenio."_

Emma gasped as her baby became encased in a soft blue glow. On seeing the hands that were holding the baby, she realized she was as well. "Oh no," she whimpered.

She rushed to the crib to hide Hermione, who had finally quieted down, but her eyes were big and wide. She gently laid her down and covered her with a quilt, effectively tucking her out of sight. She then grabbed a stool and faced the door, ready for the threat. With a drifting of smoke he was there. She turned around abruptly upon feeling a presence behind her.

"Hi, Emma is it?" Voldemort greeted, probing her mind with Legilimency. "And where is beautiful 'Mionie?" he added with sadistic glee.

Emma closed her eyes defeated. There was nothing she could do. This monster was a madman. "Please don't hurt my baby." she croaked, eyes still closed. "Please don't hurt my baby," came the repeated plea.

"Oh don't worry," he began with mock pity and understanding. "I won't hurt her. _I'll just kill her,_" he hissed in Parsletongue. "_Avada Kedavra!" _And Emma fell stiff to the ground.

"And then there was one" he spat as he approached the little girl hiding in her crib. With a flick of his wrist he removed the quilt then paused, hooked in the cruel talons of reflection and nostalgia.

He stared down at the little girl and she wasn't asleep. Her big brown eyes gazed up at him and he felt something he had never felt before. He felt guilty.

Here he was, most fear Dark Wizard of the century, and yet this girl kept staring at him, her gaze radiating one word: Why? He tried to shake his head away but couldn't and he realized that her eyes were enchanting him, as they would ensnare many a being later.

"_So she is a witch," _he realized with a gasp, now noticing her strong magical core. _"A mudblood," _he tried but his heart just wasn't in it. And then he remembered. _A rainy, rainy day as he locked down Borgin and Burkes, and turned to exit Knockturn Alley for the day. Then he saw her. A small baby wailing in a carriage as the rain continued to pour. He glanced around the street. Where was her mother and father? Even his twisted heart just couldn't leave the child all alone. He walked over and casually charmed the area around her head dry, allowing no more water to drop on her. The baby giggled and smiled up at him. And with his face, he smiled as well, a genuine smile that he hadn't felt in years. He stood there wishing that he had his own child._

Voldemort gasped and shook himself from his past. Why did that come up now? God it was the child! But why did he think of that? Sure he wanted a child when he was twenty but know he was... He smirked and looked at the child. She still showed no fear.

"Wh...Where's Da- Da, an Ma-Ma?" Hermione asked.

"They're gone. But you'll have a new father from now on."

He reached down, picked up the now sleepy child, and disappeared without so much as a sound.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Disclaimer: God how I wish I owned Harry Potter, but alas I do not. That privilege belongs to JK. But I can claim the plot can't I?

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Crisp, golden leaves of maples and oaks crushed willing under the boots that so purposefully marched above it. The wind stirred said leaves, moaning an ominous and foreshadowing tune through the night. The village was dark and quiet, lights inside houses were off and the only sort of light available were from the half moon riddled with clouds, and the floating pumpkins emitting a faint orange glow.

Fitting for a Halloween night.

Voldemort strode past the sleepy abodes of Godric's Hollow, eyes set for the small little house near the end on the east side of the graveyard. He stopped about 10 meters from the house, imagining the outline of the would-be wards. Gone now, for he could actually see the house in front of him, the house that held his enemy. He opened his mouth to taste the air, and the sharp spark of anticipation coupled with the metallic taste of death caressed his tongue. "_Better than the sweetest wine"_ he thought.

Finally he had found them. Curse the stupid Fidelius Charm and the nobility of Black being secret keeper. He had spent vast resources scouring Britain for the Potters. And then Wormtail had finally grew useful. He wrinkled his nose; he still hated traitors and Pettigrew was the weakest, most spineless creature he had ever known. But he had finally proven his worth this one time. He had become the Potter's new secret keeper, and not even an hour after the time he had come running to his feet. How perfectly delicious. He would kill little Harry and then it was off to the Longbottoms. The end of the war was here!

He swept past the wards, across the greens and up the worn steps towards the door. He paused. Should he taunt them with a knock?

XXX

A little giggle sounded in a room in the far recesses of the manor. Following it came harsh, yet gentle laughter.

Baby Hermione sat in a chair, giggling her little heart out, eyes twinkling. She kept pointing her tiny little hands at the tiny animals that kept floating around her head: tiny pure Unicorns, soft baby Hippogriffs, fang-less snakes with their tails glistening, and pretty little mermaids that baby 'Mionie seemed to love the most. Tom stood in front of her pointing his wand to send one down to nip her hair or nuzzle her cheek, laughing away when Hermione squealed at the toys' soft touch.

"Father, Father make them blue!" she giggled.

Tom flicked his wand and they became coated in a soft blue hue. Maybe it was a trick of the light but her face grew a little sad at the display. He then set them down to march in a circle around her feet, then moved to another chair to observe her.

He could never understand why his brother brought her to him. When he came back from the raid with her, he could smell the stench of Mudblood filth from a mile away. He had backed away hastily when Voldemort brought her closer.

"_Here you go," he had said, holding out the child._

"_What is that," Tom replied, frowning._

"_Oh her. Her name's Hermione. She's your daughter."_

He had become stiff, almost as if petrified, and still didn't move when he was handed the girl. He soon felt different, and he started to have his first memory. The stupid baby in the rain. But upon realizing that he thought maybe he could see similarities in this girl and the baby in the rain. The common ones like her brown eyes and brown hair of course, but more important ones like _Where were her parents?_

He had gulped and decided it wouldn't hurt to not drown the child. She had even gone and asked where her Dad was.

"_Umm... I don't know actually," he lied._

"_You're lying," she stated in a matter-of-fact tone, in such a way that only babies can. That tone was was going to be annoying when she grew up he mused._

"_We'll until we find him will you be my Father?" she had asked, eyes locking him still, unwavering._

"_She's enchanting me" he thought shocked. Well it wouldn't really hurt to be her father. There was that one time that he wanted a kid. And she could prove very useful as well. "Fine, I'll be your Father," he had said._

"_Good. I'm Hermione."_

_Jesus where did this child learn to talk like an eight year old? Such intelligence that outpaced her years. "Hello Hermione, I'm Tom."_

And now here she was, playing and laughing on the tile which she loved so much, and she had given him happiness. And it had only been a month.

Suddenly Tom felt a great chill engulf him, a massive surge of unease that filled him and sickened him. He grunted and slid off the chair.

"Father!" Hermione cried, face loosing all mirth and rushing toward her adoptive dad.

Tom found it hard to breathe. His insides felt as if they were being twisted inside out, and he hadn't experienced agony like this since the day he had recieved the _Markiline_. A bad premonition hit him that something was terribly wrong with his other half.

At that thought the doors to his chamber opened with a loud bang. A clearly in agony Death Eater stumbled into the room. He collapsed on the floor in a heap, writhing in pain and clutching his left forearm. He had his cape on but his mask was off. What was his name? Karkarov? His face was pale and his hair was slick with sweat, black bangs covering his eyes and forehead. "Tom! What is going on!"

Tom was in no mood to answer himself but then spotted the Death Eater holding his arm, apparently the source of his pain. "Your mark. Show me your mark!" he barked through clenched teeth.

The Death Eater obeyed without questioned and lifted his sleeve. It passed as unspoken understanding that throughout Death Eater ranks, Tom was second in command. No one dared voice their concerns or suspicions, not even Lucius.

Tom gasped at what he saw. The black snake was writhing over the flesh quicker than any snake ever could, in very obvious pain. Usually black, unseeing eyes now burned a crimson red and smoke sizzled from the agitated slits. The skull appeared to be acquiring numerous cracks, and chips of the skull vanished slowly from sight. The snake started to shed its skin, an irregular process as patches started scraping away. It then proceded to fold itself inside out.

"Is this happening to everyone else?" he questioned.

"Come...see," was the labored reply.

With what remaining strength they apparated to the meeting room, but not before Tom locked the door.

They apparated into the middle of pandemonium, Death Eaters screaming in pain and fear in the meeting place. Many of them were rushing around, not sure of what to do and fearful of everything. A few tried to take command and restore order, but the effort was futile. They were scared and wouldn't be calmed down quickly. Tom looked around at the mess, vases smashed on the ground and Death Eaters curling in pain. He began to lift his wand to cast a blanket _Silencio_, when everyone stopped. Even he stopped feeling nauseous. Eyes swiveled around the room, tinted with confusion, looking at each others ashen faces. A sort of recognition suddenly hit Tom, and with it came a volcanic fury of hot, molten rage.

"Yaxley!" he barked to the Death Eater closest to him. "Give me your arm."

Yaxley crept forward. His hard, blunt face pale. His characteristic blond hair was ties tied back with a band.

"What has happened Salazar?"

Tom reached for Yaxley's arm in an attempt to confirm his suspicions. The Dark Mark, once proud and arrogant and black was night, was shrunken and now faint. Tom yelled in frustration and threw Yaxley off to a corner and at the same time whipped out his wand and _Crucioed _the man nearest him. His knees shook as he realized that was a bit to powerful a spell and roared louder.

"Salazar!" another Death Eater yelled, this time a woman, Bellatrix. "What is the meaning of this!" she cried, gesturing with her forearm.

Tom shuddered in an attempt to collect himself.

"It would appear as if the Dark Lord is no more."

XXX

A terrible and strange sight met Minerva McGonagall's eyes as she sat down in the plush chair. Just today's events were strange, if one were to believe them that is. The rumors flying around had a reminiscent ferocity of her Hogwarts days, but were so absurd that only a fool would believe them. And yet...there she was sitting in an office with the now commonplace strange contraptions and beautiful phoenix, staring at a confused Dumbledore.

Strange was an understatement, strange didn't even begin to comprehend these unfathomable events. Dumbledore, the revered, esteemed, and even feared wizard of the light, sat dumbstruck; his mind was visibly trying to process the new rumors. The Dark Lord, Voldemort, Tom Freaking Riddle!, was defeated. That in itself was difficult to believe, let alone listen to. And the how? Now that just made her want to hex someone.

"Albus," she tried gently.

Albus Dumbledore's head snapped up quickly, shocked to see someone in the room. His wisdom filled head felt close to bursting. "Yes, Minerva?"

"Well you see Albus... Well-" she paused for a moment, smoothing out imaginary wrinkles from her dress in an effort to calm herself. "Is it all true." she blurted out.

Albus stared at her, eyes lost in contemplation, then walked to the fireplace. He threw floopowder into the flames, making them flare a bright, emerald green. He stuck his head into the licking flames and called out "Severus!"

From Minerva's chair she heard an oily "Yes?" in the background.

"I require your presence in my office, quickly now if you please."

Minerva did not hear a voice reply in the background, but as Dumbledore turned and exited the hearth he was followed promptly by Professor Snape.

"Minerva," was the curt acknowledgment. She merely nodded in his direction, still waiting for Dumbledore to pass his judgment. "You require my presence Headmaster?"

"Yes Severus. Please, show me your arm."

Snape looked reluctant but did so anyway. He rolled up his sleeve and Dumbledore nodded, as if he already expected what he saw. He moved toward his desk and sat, looking between the Deputy Headmistress and the Head of Slytherin House.

"Binky," Dumbledore called and with a loud pop a house elf with unnaturally large ears entered the room. While the house elf entered, Dumbledore picked up two blank pieces of parchment and unsheathed his wand.

"Headmasters bes callings Binky sir?" the elf asked with wide eyes.

Dumbledore tapped the wand to his head then touched it to the parchment, blanketing it with words. He repeated the process then waved his wand, causing each piece of stationary to fold themselves into separate envelopes. They addressed themselves before landing in the Headmaster's outstretched hand.

"If you would Binky, please go out to the Gamekeeper's hut. You will find Rubeus there. Give him this letter personally-" he handed Binky the letter on top, "-And please give him this letter once he is done. He will know what to with it. And please stress to him the urgency of his task. The still young fates of us all are resting upon his speed."

With a "Yes Dumbledore sir! I's be happy to do it!" the elf vanished. Dumbledore then turned his attention to the other occupants of the room.

"Minerva, Severus sit down," he said, conjuring another chair for Severus. They complied with an easy look between them.

"Thank you. The rumors are almost all true." At this McGonagall gasped but Dumbledore continued on. "It's just a little more complicated than that. Voldemort did indeed arrive at Godric's Hallow tonight, intending to off the Potters in an attempt to defeat the prophecy. Sirius betrayed them, apparently he has been in league with Voldemort. He was their secret keeper after all."

"No not Sirius," Minerva whimpered, while Severus let a self-satisfied smirk faintly grace his features.

"Yes I'm afraid so," Dumbledore continued. "Voldemort then proceeded to kill James and Lily."

Minerva moaned and bowed her head. But Severus, Severus grew pale and retched on the floor.

"No! No! Say it is not so! He promised me, you promised me!" he wailed and then dragged himself into a forlorn heap into the corner.

"I'm sorry Severus but there is more. You see Voldemort intended to kill the boy as well. He is... He is alive and it seems that he has vanquished the Dark Lord. Young Harry Potter is the child of the prophecy."

"But how?!" an aghast Minerva questioned.

"How indeed is a great question, which can only be answered in time. The main thing however is that Voldemort is _not_ dead. That I can assure you. However-" he said, brushing over Minerva's attempted efforts to speak up, "-there are more important things that must be discussed. Harry can not grow up here anymore. Barely two and suddenly the savior of the wizarding world? No we can't let him grow up in an environment like that. This is what needs to happen. Minerva please go out and scour the area of a number four Privet Drive. I'll meet you there tomorrow. I need time to get a rough sketch of what is going on. Hagrid has taken to a safe place in hiding, no one will find him for now and he will meet up with us tomorrow. Now I know this seems rushed in the extreme. But trust me, I've been planning this scenario for weeks now. This is our best option. Now I bid you all good night. Tonight is not time for me to indulge in small talk. Go out and celebrate with your fellow wizards. We deserve this much at least." And with that they were effectively dismissed.

Dumbledore sighed as they exited the room and sank into his chair exhausted. This was a frightening turn of events. Voldemort was gone, but for how long? It would be extremely naive and foolish to believe that the Dark Lord was gone just as simple as that. He too many dark rituals and spells to preserve his life. There was no way it could be this easy. And then there was young little Harry, _"The boy-who-lived." _he mused, unknowingly giving him a moniker that would last throughout his life. His life was going to enter a rocky and desolate road. And due to the prophecy he would one day have to stand down the Dark Lord again, in who knew how long. Would it be so wise as to deliver him to his evil - what he heard from Lily - aunt and uncle? Maybe he should train him, raise Harry as if he were his own son. He'd be safe that way, and there would be no doubting his magical prowess as he aged under Dumbledore's tutelage...

But at that point in time, Dumbledore didn't feel that course of action to be the proper one. He couldn't just wipe away the sacrifice Lily or James so painstakingly made - for alas that must have been the only way for Harry to have survived. It was with a heavy heart that he deduced that the blood wards fashioned out of love must be stronger than any protection he could offer. He would just have to leave it at that. Besides the Dursleys were human. They were Harry's flesh and blood after all. Dumbledore was confident that he would soon leave Harry in an environment that was just as loving as the one with his real parents. Confident. He had always wanted a son though. With all luck, Voldemort might not return until after Harry finished Hogwarts. If he did...

"Merlin help us," he breathed, stroking the hallmark of his features, his great white beard. He warmed up considerably as his faithful familiar, Fawkes, flew for his shoulder and nuzzled his cheek.

Dumbledore than began to think of Harry, imaging his bright green eyes (_"Strangely Avada Kedavra," he thought"_) and how if he was awake he would wonder about the giant that was Hagrid and his motorbike. And when little Harry rode wide-eyed up the lake of Hogwarts and after he was sorted, he tell him about all the wonders of his strange new world. Big things were in store for Harry. Thankfully his aunt and uncle would understand that.

"Yes," Dumbledore laughed. "We will get through this. We must." And Fawkes let loose a reassuring squawk.

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**A/N: Hey everyone! I've just been so jittery writing this because I've been in a puddle of excitement over my AP scores. I hope those of you who took AP tests did great (I'm hoping for 5's for you all) and if you didn't do so well...hey it's the experience that counts! I hope you all like this chapter and please review. Tell me if you liked it or hated it, if I'm going to fast or too slow, I just want to hear your responses. Also a big shoutout to WarthogHerme for being my first review. It means a lot!**


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

**A/N: I hope you guys enjoy this chapter and please review. Thanks**

Disclaimer: God how I wish I owned Harry Potter, but alas I do not. That privilege belongs to JK. But I can claim the plot can't I?

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It had been quite a long decade Tom thought as he strode down Diagon Alley, his daughter's hand in his own. As it happens with all kids, Hermione had grown. She was an average height for her age, but her amber eyes still retained that keen, eagle-sharp quality. Her lush brown hair - he had taken care of that frizz years ago- was tied into an elaborate french braid that hung over her right shoulder. She was smiling at the bright display of the market; her excitement was always as if she had never been there before. But need be he had made sure she had perfected her blank, pureblood mask. There was none of that today however; her pearly white and straight teeth were on display for the world to see. She was finally shopping for Hogwarts.

Tom allowed himself to be dragged toward the window of Obscurus Books by an ever bookish Hermione, losing himself in thought. It had been a very long decade. The Death Eaters now seemed a thing of the past. After that fateful night the majority of them vanished, fleeing like cowards into the night. _"Traitors," _he had remarked to himself. How dare they not go find their master. And for those who claimed to be under the Imperius, well that was brought cowardice to a brand new depth. Every one had disbanded, no one could take charge, not even himself for no one trusted each other. The heirchy of the Death Eaters was a sad one, with no true stability one the ruler was gone. Even Tom himself couldn't claim control. He just didn't have the power.

And so it was with that - Death Eaters being prosecuted and rounded up left and right - that wizarding Britain believed Voldemort gone for good. Sure some tried to seek Voldemort out - himself included for obvious reasons- but they found nothing, only victorious parades over the valor of the stupid "boy-who-lived". Too bad almost everyone thought he was most likely dead. He couldn't receive the groveling of his grateful. Tom was no idiot however. The boy was alive and would be going to Hogwarts this year.

Harry had officially been placed upon his kill list. It was insane to twist it this way (he was sadistic after all), but the eventual root to all of his problems was Harry. He would have received his magic by now if that Potter brat hadn't gone and killed off his better half. Hell, he might even be ruling Britain himself. So now he had a course of action.

He glanced at Hermione who was gazing longingly at the books, knowing that if she stood and pouted long enough, he would get them for her. If _was_ true that he loved her like she was really his but... He had grown. Voldemort had had the right idea, giving him the girl to make him weak, to make him soft. But his heart was like a chemical change, it couldn't be undone. Years at the orphanage had hardened him, and even though the felt the icy tickle of love occasionally, the truth was he didn't want it anymore. Maybe that's why Voldemort himself didn't want a child; by the time he had reached thirty he had probably outgrown such wistful and weak thinking.

Now there were only two life objectives for him to aspire to. Bring Voldemort back, who would give him his magic back, and then in turn overthrow Voldemort. _"I should be the real Voldemort," _he thought, even though this path of thinking always confused him_. "My brother can then be the Horcrux". _There were only two people who could help him achieve that. Hermione Granger and an unwilling Harry Potter, wherever the hell he was.

Hermione...that was a tough choice. But he hadn't gotten to where he was, seen the things he had saw, and done the things he had done without sacrifices. No his immortality came first. He had been training Hermione ever since she was a toddler and had performed her first bout of accidental magic at four. She had ran away from him throughout the house (they had deserted the manor after it had become swarmed by aurors and ministry officials) after stealing one of his quills. She then rounded the corner and seemingly smacked into the heavy metal sheet that was the door, as he heard a sickening crack that sounded distinctly like apparation. He rushed around the corner preparing to see the worse only to find nothing there. She had some how made it past the door that guarded his precious library, and was laughing in the center of the room.

Ever since that day he had proceeded to instruct in all manners of things, from potion-making, dueling, plants, charms, and even some wandless magic. And when she was ten he let her dibble into the wondrous monstrosity that was the Dark Arts.

She loved it.

She had grown very powerful now, and that was only the base of her abilities. 'Mionie's unquenchable lust for knowlegde was uncanny, strange, and awe-inspiring. She had gone through half the library already - the ones she could understand - and didn't seem as if she would ever stop. Hermione was also unnaturally curious; she asked so many questions and was so perceptive.

"_Father why do you hate Harry Potter so much?" _she had asked one day when she was six.

"_Ah well its a little bit complicated 'Mionie," he laughed._

"_Oh come now Father, you can tell me can't you?"_

"_Well I supposed so," he replied turning to make as if clearing the dishes. He had learned to never initiate eye contact with her when she was curious and when he wanted to lie. "You see Harry killed your Uncle."_

"_Uncle Voldemort? But I thought you hated him?" she questioned._

"_I did hate, still do actually, but I need him to help me."_

_He could sense her contemplation behind him as she tried to work out her thoughts. "So you say you need him, that must mean he still must be alive right?" He nodded in reply. "And is Uncle the reason why you're sick?"_

_He laughed at her intuitiveness "Yes. He is."_

_She then reached and placed her hand on his shoulder. "I hate Uncle for making you sick Father. And Harry too. I will help you." He had to suppress himself from laughing. It was almost to easy._

Now his little baby was off to Hogwarts, going to use her new found skills to bring Voldemort back, or kill Harry, or something. Time would tell, and he was content on waiting.

"Can we get the books now?" Hermione whined, pulling Tom out of his thoughts and inching toward the door.

"Now Hermione, where are we supposed to get our books?"

"Ugh, Flourish and Blotts," she huffed, crossing her arms. "But they don't have the good stuff in there!" Good stuff...synonym for Dark stuff. She _was _growing.

"Now, now 'Mione stop fretting we'll be back here soon enough. Come on we're almost done shopping. I'll tell you what. Be a good little girl and we'll head to Knockturn Alley for a pet."

"Really, Father? A snake?! Oh thank you, thank you!" she squealed, hugging Tom's waist.

He smiled inwardly at her Slytherin tatics, he hadn't said one word about a snake. "Ok let's go."

They trudged along the streets of Diagon, passing by merchants eager to sell their wares and vendors boasting of the next great charm or potion- all perfectly bogus if Tom was going to be honest with himself. It was little past noon and the sun shined invitingly high in the sky, illuminating the windows and encasing the shop-goers of the alley in a buzzing and comfortable heat. Gringotts was busy as usual, individuals bustling easily around the doors like ants milling around an anthill. The steady hum of conversation and laughter filled the the air and traveled around the shopping district, finishing off the scene of a normal, content day in Diagon Alley. The reached Flourish and Blotts and entered behind what appeared to Hermione a literal giant and his raven haired son.

"Ok Hermione go and look for your books. You have the list?"

"Yes Father."

"Great. I need to talk to the store clerk so I will see you in a bit." Tom then turned to the counter where the clerk was lounging.

Hermione moved off so she could retrieve her books and get her snake faster. She had just picked up the _Standard Book of Spells: Grade Two_ when she overheard the father and son pair talking.

"My goodness Hagrid!" the boy was exclaiming to the giant; apparently Hagrid was his name. "This world is so amazing. Owls, and cauldrons, and moving pictures, and broomsticks, and goblins, and the strangest assortment of candy I've ever seen! And I actually have an inheritance I can use this on? This is just absolutely wicked!" Hermione could sense that he was a bubbly mess from behind the bookcase. He was so excited. Was it his first time here? _"A Mudblood," _she inwardly spat.

"Yeh tis really a wonder ain't it? An ter think you haven't seen Hogsmeade, not ter mention Hogwarts! Trus me kiddo, you'll have a right blast!"

The boy beamed up at his... Well Hermione didn't really think they were related anymore. The boy was thin, with unkempt jet black hair that flowed over his head and produced bangs that hid part of his forehead. He was maybe a quarter of an inch taller than her, from what she could tell from afar, and he was donned in baggy, old muggle clothes. Baggy clothes and unruly hair or not, Hermione blushed as she realized that this boy was handsome- a mudblood- but dashingly beautiful. But what completed his features, what corner-stoned his face were the jewels that glinted sharply behind his glasses. His eyes were a startling jade, _"Almost Avada Kadavish," _she thought, and they were presently sparkling with mirth. He didn't have any resemblance to the giant of a man with his scraggly brown beard and comforting black eyes. So if not father than caretaker?

"Now why don't you go finish up with your books by yourself. I have some business that I need to take care of and then I'll be right back."

"Okay sure Hagrid," the boy agreed, waving as the man known as Hagrid left down the aisle.

Hermione gasped and spun around. How could she have gotten sidetracked She needed to get all her book or she wouldn't be able to get her snake with Tom. She hurriedly made her way around the shop, picking up the copy of _A History of Magic, Magical Drafts and Potions, A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration, _and _Hogwarts, A History_, just for some light reading. She had all the tomes that she needed except one. She then dashed to the dueling section of the store to pick up _The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection _(pathetic really) when she crashed head long into an individual who was speeding toward her as well. They tumbled into a heap on the floor, knocking loose the books they had collected and dislodging some books from the shelves in the process. A stray clerk in the opposite aisle sent the disoriented pair a stern look but didn't move to help them.

"Merlin watch where-" Hermione started to hiss just as the other boy began to say,

"I'm sorry, I'm-" but then stopped at the same time as Hermione.

The two looked at each other and froze. Sitting in front of Hermione was the ridiculously handsome green-eyed boy from before. His glasses were askew and his face was turning pink. Sitting in front of Harry was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen, prettier by leaps and bounds than his Aunt Petunia and more pleasing to the eye than any miss that Dudley happened to slap a hand on. Her chocolate hair flowed like honey, dripping together to a point that was her french braid. Her fair skin and cheeks were tinted a bubblegum pink, a telltale sign of blood rising to her surface. Her white and uniform teeth were hidden in an shy smile, but there were greater forces at play upon her features. He was currently drowning in the most captivating pools of dark amber eyes he had ever witnessed.

He couldn't tear his eyes away from her.

She couldn't tear her eyes away from him.

Hermione had never really experienced kids before or had playmates of her own age. Not to mention boys. Her few interactions with kids her age were atrocious, and she hated them: kids and her experiences. When she was 4 she used to go out and play a couple of times, but the kids were mean. Dastardly cruel and unrelenting. She had at first tried to go to them, to show them that she was a friend but they laughed at her and ran away. Or even worse they would pretend like they wanted to befriend her, only to trick and deceive her. They had called her names and laughed at her teeth. That was when she had left crying to Tom. She had sniffed into their house by the forest, and told her dad everything that had happened. He had comforted her and fixed her teeth with a wave of his beautiful wand, and she had cried herself to sleep in his arms.

The kids questioned why she only lived with her dad, or why she didn't look like him, content to provide their own twisted explanations. When she thought that maybe she would receive acceptance through her genius, her intellect, she was rejected again. It was needless to say that she did not have any friends and was uncomfortable around people her age. She only felt safe with her books and her father.

And it was with this background that she found herself shocked when she actually stammered "Hello," at the same time the boy shakily said "Hello."

Harry was astounded himself. Someone had tried to talk to him, a girl no less. He warily glanced around, expecting to see Dudley come around the corner and yell _"Psyche! There's no way you're going to get friends!"_, just like he usually did at school or on the playground. For Harry had endured the same lack of friends that Hermione had, and resigned himself to the fate that he deserved to be lonely. Alone and even cruelly bereft of the love of caring and compassionate guardians. But this girl was smiling at him, and those eyes didn't seem to tell him to bugger off. The seemed inviting, something he wasn't used to.

"I'm sorry about your books," he tested, hurriedly bending over to retrieve her fallen books.

"No, no it's okay. I... I shouldn't have been running," she breathed, scurrying to pick up his books.

They cleaned up the area in silence after that, each one lost in happy yet wary contemplation.

"Here you go," the boy stated, handing her a copy of _The Dark Forces_. "I kind of assumed that you were in first year so here."

"That was sweet of you," she mumbled, keeping her head staring firmly at the ground. He would not see her blush!

Harry was an utter novice in this situation and didn't know what to offer at that moment. His usually intelligent brain decided to take over, popping the stupidest phrase it could think of into his mouth, while his heart wailed at his sudden numbness and idiocy.

"Are you going to Hogwarts this year?" He slapped his hands on his forehead and groaned.

Hermione looked at him and rolled her eyes, a smile plastered on her face. Ha so he wasn't perfect! "Of course I am. I'm getting books remember?"

"Errm... Err.. Yes. Right. Sorry about that he stuttered, rubbing his necked. They stared at each other and stood there awkwardly for a couple of minutes, each one searching the other. Hermione then decided to break the silence. Why was she being shy? She was a Pureblood after all.

"Did your parents bring you here?" she asked, fishing.

"No actually, I don't have parents." _"Why am I telling her this?" _Harry thought immediately.

"Really!" was Hermione's reply, genuinely shocked. He was like her, without any parents. A kindred spirit. "I don't have parents either," she admitted.

"Oh I'm sorry," he said looking at her differently.

"It's okay honestly. I have Tom now, he's my new father," came the proud and matter-of-fact response.

"Is he nice?"

"What? Of course he is!" she scoffed, eyes accusing. "He loves me alot-". Her face fell as she saw the boy's long face and came to a realization. "Aren't your foster parent's nice?"

"They're my aunt and uncle actually," he corrected, eyes staring at the ground. "They kinda suck. They can't stand magic, they're muggles - I think that's what it's called - and think I'm a freak. Heck I didn't even know that I was magical until a week ago when I got my letter and my new friend Hagrid 'coerced' them into accepting it. I guess that's why I want go to Hogwarts so bad, I want to know if it really is real," he finished with a nervous chuckle.

Hermione stared at him, feeling for his ache that was radiating from him. She gazed into his eyes, thinking that he looked hauntingly beautiful when he was sad. She shook her head quickly. What would her father say if he found out that she thought a mudblood was good-looking, or that his eyes were to die for?

"I'm sorry," she whispered, smiling reassuringly at him.

"It's okay. Honestly. Besides, there will hopefully be more people like you at Hogwarts."

She blinked and looked down again, that insufferable blushing of her cheeks happening again. She needed to stop this.

She was spared as her father started calling her from the front of the store.

"Hermione come on. Do you want a pet or not?"

Hermione turned around, torn. At this point in time a snake could wait. But her father was still coming urgently. "Coming Father!" she yelled and turned back to the raven haired boy. "Sorry, that's my dad."

"It's okay. Hopefully I will see you at school."

"You're not riding the train?"

"Train? Oh yeah. Well the train then."

"Hermione!" came her father's yell again.

"Hmm Hermione, that's a pretty name," the boy said. Then his eyes glowed brighter as if receiving a sudden revelation. "My name's H-"

"Hermione!"

"Sorry have to go!" she interrupted and ran off.

"Hermione," Harry repeated to himself. A very unique name.

And at the same time right outside the bookstore doors a shriek went up, "I never got his name!"

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**A/N: Another round of AP scores for a different region of the US. Hope you all did well! **


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Disclaimer: God how I wish I owned Harry Potter, but alas I do not. That privilege belongs to JK. But I can claim the plot can't I?

**A/N: 60 pages people! :) Anyways, this chapter did not want to be written. And as a side note, I forgot that there was an entire month between July and September. (Whoops) Hope you all like this chapter and please review! Thank you! **

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"Harry! Harry! It's time to fix breakfast boy!" came a shrill voice through the door. It effectively served to shatter Harry's blissful dreaming and destroy the peaceful calmness that was the early morning stillness. Harry opened his eyes with a cascade of despair washing over him. The loud and high-pitched voice, the old room stuffed with junk, and the soft light filling through a dust covered window. They were all real. All of it mind-numbly real and suffocating. He felt jailed; jailed from the wonders of excitement and barred even from the comforts of his dream. How could it have all been a dream?

As he walked resigned to the door, he caught himself. He was walking in this room, not slouching. He could move around and _stretch_ his arms, the typical accompanying gesture of a yawn. There were items in here that weren't actually his own, old and worn yes, but items none the less, indicating the bedroom had enough space to store used items. And then the light. Sure it was early, but it entered and bathed the room in a soft, cool light, casting the room in a mild and easy shadow. It rested on the bookcase that was stuffed with books that had never actually been read - but still seemed worn somehow-, it coated the headboard of his bed, and slipped through the crack that was the hidden floorboard. There wasn't any daylight in the cupboard.

A fresh wave of excitement coursed through his body. How could he have forgotten. He had been dreaming of this day for a full month now. He had a room now. He wasn't in that inhumane cupboard. It wasn't a dream! He was a wizard! He was going to Hogwarts that very day in fact! He pranced around the room and let out an excited whoop. Nothing would bring him down.

At his antics a snowy owl in the corner let out an amused hoot. "Hedwig!" Harry smiled, moving to his beautiful owl. He opened her cage and gave her treats that Hagrid had given him. From the little that Harry knew of Hagrid, subtle was not an adjective that came to mind. But there he was at the bookstore, his 'business' was the amazing owl that was Harry's birthday present. She had taken a liking to him immediately. _"Well if playfully nipping one's ear counted as liking"_ he thought good-heartedly.

That path of thinking brought him to another happy memory that happened on the same day, which caused him to smile even brighter in his room. Hermione. Maybe on that one he had been dreaming. A girl, a pretty witch -who as luck would have it was also a first year!- had actually struck up a conversation with him. And she continued it, seemingly as interested to talk with him as he was to her. She didn't even run when he had asked her if she was going to Hogwarts. Goodness! - or Merlin! she had said- of all the stupid things to have come out of his mouth. _"She probably thinks I've never seen a girl before, let alone talk to one." _And she wouldn't have been that far from the truth.

And her eyes! That was another thing all together. The Dursley's eyes were dull; common, unseeing, and reminiscent of the mindless trash that played on the telly. Even his classmates pupils lacked something, a sparkle that would indicate life or intelligence. But Hermione's? Her eyes were life. They epitomized the phrase windows into the soul, boasting of a lavish beauty and exquisiteness. She was literally a gem, a polished and ethereal ruby. And every time he imagined her eyes, whether asleep or mono-toning through consciousness, he saw something else too. A faint inkling of impurity, tarnish? Whatever it was, it was there. They were still ridiculously stunning though, alluring him to no end.

She could even relate with him, connect with him on a level that no child should have to go through. She didn't have any parents either. He did feel sympathy of course, but he also felt a little happier knowing that there would be one person at Hogwarts who shared the same life experience he had. He didn't know Tom at all, but hopefully he was as great as she said he was. It still couldn't be enough to not miss her parents though. Did her parents die like his - not at the hands of Voldemort like his parents of course, maybe like an accident or something- or did they just not want her? He shook his head vigorously. There was no way anyone could not want Hermione. He wanted Hermione. _"Gah!" _he thought, shaking away these feelings. What Dudley called cooties. _"I'm eleven years old for crying out loud!" _

He couldn't wait to get on the train, to see Hermione again and hopefully to make some friends. He glanced at the clock near his bedside table. 7:28. He needed to be a King's Cross station at roughly 10:30, for the letter said the train left at exactly eleven o'clock. Okay good, he would just leave with the Dursley's at... _"Oh no. I forgot to tell them."_

As if sensing that Harry was thinking about the family, Petunia yelled again. "Boy don't make me have to repeat myself!"

Harry gave the rest of the owl treats to Hedwig. "Coming!" he shouted, idly noting that she had already repeated herself. No point in pointing that out. He petted Hedwig's soft feathers and smiled. There would be nothing that could deter his spirits today. After closing the door to Hedwig's cage he exited the room and bounced down the stairs. Such was his excitement that he almost tripped on the second step to the landing. He steadily tried to calm himself- unsuccessfully - and brushed into the kitchen.

He stepped into the hideously spotless -he should know, he spent most of his days cleaning it to his aunt's wishes- kitchen to see his Petunia resting in the kitchen. The modern, top-of-the-range appliances gleamed in the early sunrise, sparkling the room in an array of reflections. The table was set in the geometrically perfect center of the floor, with the four chairs surrounding it in an uncomfortably faultless circumference. Not one utensil was out of place, and every napkin and rag was set into impeccable order. Disgustingly flawless.

"Took you long enough," Petunia spat as a greeting, talking to him for the first time in weeks. Ever since the Hagrid broke into the hut on the stormy island, the Dursleys, or rather Vernon and Dudley, seemed afraid of him. They refused to talk or even acknowledge him. But that was totally acceptable to Harry.

"Good Morning to you to Aunt Petunia!" he returned cheerfully.

Petunia craned her already unbelievably long neck at Harry and scrutinized him with her brown, dull eyes. "Why are you so happy boy? Have you brought drugs into this home?"

Harry laughed inwardly. Hagrid was right. His relatives were paranoid. "No ma'am." He then promptly ignored her and moved toward the spotless fridge to retrieve the eggs and bacon. They went about their business quietly after that, Harry smiling and frying the bacon and Petunia staring at him as she was wont to do lately.

Ever since the forced realization that Harry was indeed a wizard, Petunia had changed. Well maybe changed had been the wrong word. She had begun behaving differently after that night in the cove. She seemed to be thinking more, and about Harry if the glances his way were any indication. And she wasn't as scathing she usually was either; she had calmed down from the fervor level that was her husband and son. It was times like these in the morning when Harry would try and concern himself about what her state of mind was. Was she she guilty? Jealous? Upset? _Scared? _Maybe it had to do with his parents. He didn't know. And today he didn't care, nor did he spare her one thought. He was going to Hogwarts. Wicked.

Perfectly emulating Pavlov's dogs, the two other males of the house entered the kitchen in unison as Harry placed all four plates of eggs and bacon on the table. _"Lazy, fat oafs the both of them,_" he thought. They all sat down (except for Dudley who _unfortunately_ could not sit) and ate in...He couldn't really say in silence for whereas Harry and Petunia ate their food politely (well Petunia more likely nipped like a butterfly), Vernon and Dudley guzzled down their larger proportions, chomping and slurping in disregard. Harry wasn't sickened - he had gotten over their less than decorous table manners by now- and waited until they were nearly done to broach his topic.

"So," Harry started, clearing his throat, "I have to go to school today."

"And?" Vernon growled, not even glancing up from his newspaper. From his corner by the counter Dudley snickered.

Harry ignored him and continued. "Well, we have to catch the train, and it leaves at eleven, at King's Cross Station. Sir," he added for good measure.

Vernon glared at him for a moment before responding. "Fine, if only to send you to that devil school with the rest of your devil spawn faster. No one needs to tell me twice to let you leave for more than half the year anyway. Don't need you and your blight, affliction, or whatever the hell it is corrupting my child."

Harry saw red and had to swallow his piece of bacon in an attempt to calm himself down. They were idiots. If Harry didn't have such a big heart, he would have hated them already. He was stuck instead with a very strong dislike of them. A _very_ strong dislike. The three individuals in front of him had to be the most bigoted, ignorant, and pretentious group of people he ever had the displeasure to know. Thank God wizards couldn't be anything like this. What could they possible have against people who were born magical? Did having magic in your blood make you worthless and not even worth the bottom of the scum under your feet? No! It was all so stupid. How could they think he was devil spawn? He had lived with them his entire life.

He calmed himself down again. It was no use trying to attempt to reason with them. They technically could still prohibit him from attending the school yet. Besides, Hermione and other Hogwarts students could help him. They'd be able to help him get over the impossible bigotry and baseless ideals of superiority. He was sure that rubbish didn't exist in the wizarding world. The Dursleys were fearful of magic and always would be.

"Okay then."

"Good. Now were are we dropping you off?"

Harry glanced down at his letter just to get it right. "Well at King's Cross Station we are supposed to go to platform nine and three quarters."

Vernon's coffee cup stopped at his lips and he glanced at Harry. Petunia paused at picking at her food and stared at Harry. Dudley stuffed another egg into his mouth and gaped - yes, gaped with food spilling from his open mouth- at Harry.

Harry looked behind him, wondering what was going on. As he whipped back around to face them, the other occupants in the room erupted in peals of mocking laughter.

"Oh Christ did you hear that 'Tunia? Platform nine and three quarters!" he gasped, coffee cup shaking and body shaking upon being racked with laughter. Petunia for her part seemed to be choking, gasping and nodding and chuckling all at once. And Dudley...well Dudley was on another plane of the spectrum.

"Nine and three quarters! He's a right idiot isn't he dad?"

They kept on laughing and Harry grew more and more impatient. This was utterly childish and petty. It was not that funny. He was just riding a train.

"I don't see what is so funny," he stated icily. "I'm just riding a train."

Vernon sobered up enough to answer him. "There isn't a Platform nine and three quarters fool. It proceeds from nine, nine and a half, then ten. Trust your kind to give you wrong directions. But don't worry we'll be happy to drop you there. And don't come back for the next ten months either." Then he went back to chortling with his disgusting family.

Harry had had enough. He emptied his dishes in the sink - not bothering to clean them for once- and headed out the kitchen. It was nine now. Time repack his trunk for the umpteenth time. He closed the door to his room and finally shut out that cruel laughter. He was so close. So close to freedom. Only three more hours till Hogwarts.

XXX

It was around ten that found a certain young lady of the Riddle household upset on her bed. Understandably, Tom was starting to feel impatient. "Hermione are you still 'depressed'" he questioned, exasperated. "I mean this is your first day of Hogwarts", he added with a hint of repressed excitement. He had to be the calm and dignified one today. Although he couldn't help it if the emotional dregs of giddy expectation that was the Hogwarts Express overtook him just like everyone else. He was only half-human after all.

"I know Daddy-,"

"_Hmm 'Daddy'" _he though. _"This must be serious."_

"-,but it's just that I won't know who to ask for. And what if he's forgotten about me already? What if he's with some other girl?... Well not that he's my boyfriend or anything or mine even, but I mean most naturally I would be jealous you see. What if he doesn't get on the train because he doesnt't know where it is? And then he misses it? Then I'll...I'll...What if I have to sit on the train by myself? I was just hoping I'd stay with someone," she finished in a soft whisper.

"_You must be scared then," _he hissed, tongue forking like a snake, and finally realizing where his daughter's fears were rooted.

"_Yes, Father." _she answered.

Tom let out a silent sigh of relief. She was just a little anxious, perfectly natural considering the situation. Thank Merlin he did not have to be the mom today.

"'_Mione, what you need to realize," _he began, "_, is that Hogwarts is a special place. Always has been and always will be."_

"_But I though you hated Hogwarts?" _

"_The situation yes, but the place never. When you're surrounded by Dumbledores and Dippets, gifted individuals such as I cannot help but feel stifled. I will always love that castle. When I first arrived at Hogwarts, I came from a nowhere, god-forsaken place. I saw the trip on the train as a new start for me if you will, a beginning to prove that I really was as in control that I was at my previous...residence. You, my little Hermione, are strong, unnaturally smart, and headstrong. That's not even to mention the fact that you are a pureblood."_

He paused then, trying to find something with which to arrowhead his thoughts. _"Do you know why I let you speak Parsletongue?"_

Hermione frowned in contemplation. _"Because I'm different?" _

"_Yes. That's exactly why. You and I are the only two people who can speak it. The final heirs of Salazar Slytherin himself. That is not to say that we are shunned. No, on the contrary 'Mione, we are so different for we are so much more greater than all the rest. Our very minds posses more intelligence than the average mortal. We are different because that is our birthright. It would be foolishness to want to 'fit in' or assimilate and don't let anyone tell you otherwise. You should take your uniqueness as a blessing. If you happen to be sitting alone on the train ride, you've already won: they're intimidated by you. If you're unfortunate enough to sit with others, then use your Slytherin qualities to begin your take over of the school right then and there. _A win-win situation if any," he finished.

"I know that already Father," Hermione huffed. "But what about _him_?"

"Oh so this is really the issue?" he asked with eyebrows raised.

Hermione blushed and grinned sheepishly, but didn't favor him with a response.

"Well then," Tom continued, "-no one is good enough for my little Pureblood princess. He is a pureblood right?"

"Of course he is," she lied. "That's insulting."

"Just asking!" Tom laughed. "I'm sure you'll see him; if you really needed to. But really Hermione we really need to start going. Maybe if we get there early you'll see him, who knows?"

"Sure, Father," Hermione consented. She stooped down to pick up Isabella, her beautiful, olive-green inland taipan. There had been many beautiful snakes lounging in their cages, but Isabella was all alone by herself in the back, seemingly unwanted. She was exquisite to Hermione, and she could easily relate with Hermione about loneliness and neglect. Isabellale was very timid; yet from what Hermione heard from the storekeeper, Isabellale was the most venomous snake he possessed. She gently stroked the scales on the top of the snake's head as it wrapped itself contently around her arm. "_Ready to go Izzy?" _she purred.

"_Yes, Mistress. Anywhere is better than that other place."_

"_Father says that Hogwarts is amazing. I'm sure you'll love it."_

"_As long as you enjoy it as well Lady," _Izzy replied, closing her eyes.

"Well I guess were ready to go then," Tom finished, levitating Hermione's luggage. He ushered them into the fireplace and they all squeezed in. After grabbing a pinch of Floo powder, he checked to make sure everyone was set. Satisfied, he yelled, "Kings Cross Station!"

They exited gracefully into the clearing of Platform nine and three quarters, dusting themselves off in the semi-clear space. It appeared as if the train had just arrived into the station; many of the attendants were scattered around the area and the trolley witches were stocking up on assorted sweets. The atmosphere was calm and quiet, a standoffish dignified air that was accompanied with the upper level Purebloods who arrived early to fulfill some outdated code of elitism. Hermione eyed her surroundings a little warily and unconsciously clung closer to Tom's arm.

"Oh Hermione," he said, bending down to hug her. "You'll be fine. Now, remember the three words?"

"Slytherin or die."

"Yes Slytherin or die. You should run along to the train and get a good spot now. I have business to attend to now. But once you get to the common room, write me okay?"

"Yes Father," she said, clutching Isabella a little tighter. "I will."

"Good." He gently released her. "I promise you'll have so much fun there. And besides, knowing you, only interesting things will happen with you. I love you Hermione, I really do. You shouldn't be scared or afraid. I want you to hold your head high and march onto that train as if you own it."

A genuine smile finally graced her face. "I will Father."

"I know you will," he reassured her. "_Take care of her will you?" _he questioned to Isabella.

"_Of course," _came the drowsy reply.

The former horcrux took a final sweep of the train station, taking in every feature of the location that had began his own quest for power. And now Hermione had started her own journey. Somehow, one way or another, she would help him to retrieve back his magic. She couldn't fail. He couldn't fail.

With a final glance, he exited into the flames of the grate behind him.

"Let's go Isabella; we might as well reserve a compartment."

Hermione gathered her items and made her way toward the train. She had every intention of placing her things down and then spending the remaining half hour searching for that boy. She climbed the steps and made her way to the compartments in the back. If she was going to be alone, she thought, she might as well not have to see other people. And a girl could still hope. The cruel girls from the sandbox probably weren't smart enough to attend Hogwarts. She found a place near the very back of the train and began to settle all her belongings.

"_Do you want to stay in here Izzy_?" Hermione asked.

"_Hermione, I really love sleep. A lot. I don't know if I can stress that I love to sleep. Please stop waking me up Mistress. And yes, I'll just sleep here."_ Her head darted around the room. "_That sunny spot on the window sill has potential. I'll stay there."_

"_Testy much aren't we?" Hermione giggled. "Okay I'll be outside. I just don't want any of the cleaning ladies to spot you. But if you see a student you can bite them." _She pulled out her wand, a rather unusual one made with yew and a core of basilisk skin, and cast a disappearance spell on Isabella. It was a very simple spell that was invented by her Father. It required almost no magical ability at all to cast, like a first year casting sparks. She placed her familiar by the window and once satisfied that her trunk was hidden away from view, she left to begin her scout for the hidden boy.

XXX

As Harry entered through the wrought iron mammoth that was the train station, he was bombarded by the unfamiliar and disgusting smell of congestion. Men in their finely crafted trench coats and well-tailored suits shuffled briskly along the smooth marble floors, some glancing intently at pocket watches and others chatting - or tolerating whenever the case - with women at their sides. Stiffed faced attendants lined the various platforms; burly ones assisting with luggage, old ones dealing with ongoing proceedings with a steady hand, and inexperienced rookies participating in whole lot of nothing with an expression of acquired annoyance. The entire venue crashed against the eardrums in a crescendo of noise. Bickering, yelling, ordering, laughter, camaraderie, and steam whistles combined to create an understated loud atmosphere. The entire environment was uninviting, a stark contrast to his expectations for today.

Harry felt completely out of place. Then again he was a wizard surrounded by a multitude of muggles. There were no kids to be found. Or Harry thought there were none. He could hear laughter and sometimes spot a kid around his age, but anytime he tried to concentrate they seemed to disappear. Which couldn't at all be possible.

The troop of Harry and the Dursleys steadily made their way into the train station, passing each platform as it increased in number. All the while Vernon couldn't keep the glee off of his face.

"Nine and three quarters you say? That's just splendid! We're at eight now, just a little bit farther."

Harry ignored him and kept pushing his trolley, eyeing the approaching platform. Things were starting to get a little serious. He was already receiving funny looks due to his massive trunk, pewter cauldron, and disgruntled owl. Hedwig was letting out peeved hoots from the confines of her silver cage. Harry assumed she was unused to such a clustered place. Her displeasure was sure to attract more attention later. What happened if there was no said platform? Could this all have been a hoax, or a cruel and well-crafted lie? Hagrid, Diagon Alley. How did one explain all of that? And yet, even as his mind began to take the turn into doubt, Harry knew that it couldn't be true. All of these strange materials could not have existed otherwise. He had even seen magic with his very own eyes. He snickered as he realized that Dudley himself couldn't ignore the presence of magic. "_I bet his arse still hurts," _he thought. And then there was Hermione. Nope, not a fluke.

They finally passed by platform nine and then platform nine and a half, only to see nothing. A loud whistle signaled 10 minutes till the leave of all the eleven o'clock trains; more realistically a warning to all the typical late-comers.

"Well boy," Vernon laughed, "Platform nine, nine and a half, and ten. You've been looking forward to this for the past month haven't you? Here's your wish."

He pulled his family members closer to him and together they separated themselves from Harry. With a contemptuous look back at him, Vernon essentially wiped his hands clean. "Now you're here. That's our only obligation to you. I don't want to see your face anywhere near my house till summer comes." And without so much as a wave goodbye, they turned and left King's Cross Station.

Harry gulped and frowned, staring intently at the wall where the platform should have been. It was a long shot but... "Excuse me sir," he said to a passing attendant- the old type- ", erm could you tell me where platform nine and three quarters is?"

"Pardon lad?"

"Platform nine and three quarters. I'm...I'm supposed to catch the Hogwarts Express."

The man glared at him. "Listen here son. That doesn't exist. You had better not be in here to waste my time. And animals are not allowed, especially birds," he spat and then stormed off.

Harry sighed and looked to his owl. "What are we going to do Hedwig?"

Hedwig ruffled her feathers, no answer forthcoming. And what an excellent question indeed. What was he going to do? Maybe he could get in touch with Hagrid. He seemed genuine enough. Wasn't he a gamekeeper? Surely he could take him to Hogwarts. There must also be some sort of 'wizard police'. They probably get these cases all the time. They'd get him to Hogwarts. And if all else failed he could still click his heels two times and...

"My goodness there are so many muggles today aren't there?" came a female voice a ways away.

Harry jerked his head up quickly. Did he hear her right? _Muggles_? He turned to see a congregation of six individuals with bright red hair make their way toward him. The motherly one among them was leading them forward, holding a girl's hand who seemed to be a year younger than Harry. The rest were boys, each of them _pushing trolleys carrying trunks like Harry's. _Harry moved closer toward them while trying to remain out of sight.

"Well, I would imagine so mother," the oldest boy replied. He appeared to be around fifteen and had a badge with a silver _P _on it. Harry couldn't place his finger on the exact word, but the boy presented an air of pompousness. "I mean we are very nearly late to our own train, and it is very common knowledge that muggles become active around eleven."

"Percy, you're a git," said the second oldest, pushing his cart forward next to an individual who looked exactly like him. He and his presumed twin (who knew if wizards duplicated themselves?) were the tallest of everyone and their faces were plastered with a grin.

"Totally right, brother of mine. Couldn't have put it better myself. Muggles are active at eleven? Such idiocy; you act as if they go through hibernation."

"Not at all what I meant, George," Percy retorted.

"My goodness I'm hurt. I am obviously Fred." said Fred.

"And I'm George," said George.

"And I'm annoyed," snipped the mother. "That's enough from you three. Bickering instead of helping Ron. It's his first time actually going to the school and you can't help or comfort him."

"Mum, I'm fine," spoke up the youngest boy, who began to turn a delicate shade of red.

"See mum? Ickle Ronnykins is fine. Come on George let's head past the wall."

Ron began to look even more cross, but before he could deign them with a response, the strangest sight took place in front of Harry's eyes. The twins picked up speed and ran straight at the barrier that Harry had been staring at earlier and disappeared. Harry shook his head. No, he just blinked so where did they go?

"Okay go through Percy," the mother said.

Harry made sure that his eyes stayed open this time. Briskly forward Percy began to move, swiftly approaching the wall. _"He's going to crash!" _Harry thought with amazement. Percy reached the wall and slid straight through it, almost as if passing under a hidden passage of a waterfall. He was through the wall and it barely even rippled. Harry realized he needed to act quickly or else miss the train. He pulled his cart out of the shadows and up to the red-haired matriarch.

"Um, hello-" he started.

"Hello dearie, how can I help you? Are you looking to catch the express?"

He merely nodded, too timid to respond.

"Excellent. You must be a first year aren't you? My son Ronald is going to Hogwarts for the first time as well. Going through is really easy. All you have to do is march straight forward and imagine yourself going through. It's quite simple and perfectly harmless. How about you go first? We'll be right after you. Go on now."

Harry stood looking at her and moved only when she ushered him forward. He took a deep breath and walked forward. Then he took off running (because he was walking too slow to get past the barrier right?) and then he was through.

It was quite literally a transcendence to another world. The entire place oozed brightness and warmth; kids were running this way and that, chatting with friends or teasing with siblings. Adults were supervising their kids and catching up with old acquaintances, reminiscing about Hogwarts days long past. Harry's senses were taking it all in, thoroughly overwhelmed, when he saw it. A warship of scarlet lightning. The Hogwarts Express sat on the tracks, basking in its own majestic beauty. He imagined he could feel the magic resonating off of the locomotive.

After clearing his head of a sudden giddy feeling, he made his way toward the train and up the steps. It was very crowded as he made his way down the aisle. Many people were in and out of compartments or still loading their luggage or just lounging. He was about to enter one compartment near the middle of the train when he heard distinct chattering from inside.

"Really, you think so?" came a girl's voice.

"Of course. You can't really think he's dead do you?"

"Well I don't think so."

"Me neither."

"Me too."

"Exactly. He was most likely put in hiding after he vanquished You-know-who. And he'd be eleven now. Just wait, we'll see him at the sorting."

Harry stopped himself from entering the room. This was just the sort of thing he feared when Hagrid was discussing his fame at the Leaky Cauldron. He definitely was not ready for that. Backing into the aisle he continued down to the only empty compartment that was near the back. He had settled himself down when the Ron boy from earlier poked his head into the door.

He had a smudge on his nose and his hair seemed a little ruffled. "Hello. Do you mind if I stay here? All the other compartments are full," he explained.

"Sure. I'm the only one in this one."

Ron moved to put his trunk in the corner and pulled a fat, grubby rat from his pocket. "His names Scabbers. You don't mind rats do you? I can keep him in my trunk if you'd like."

"No, not all," Harry said. He laughed inwardly to himself. He slept with spiders of all things.

Ron attempted to place Scabbers on the window sill next to him, but the rat tried desperately to climb back into Ron's pocket. He tried harder, yet it seemed as if the rat refused. "Stupid rat," he mumbled, consenting and moving toward his trunk. "Funny, he's never done this before."

"You think he could be scared of something?"

"I dunno. Scabbers used to be my brother's, Percy's."

"Was he the one that was wearing a badge?"

"Yes...I had almost forgotten that you went through the wall before me. I'm Ron by the way, Ron Weasley."

Harry paused, not sure if he wanted to respond, but Ron seemed nice enough. Maybe a future friend. A first.

"I'm Harry, Harry Potter."

Ron's mouth dropped open and he blinked. "The Harry Potter?" he asked incredulously.

"I'm sorry, but I wasn't really aware that I would be famous coming over here," Harry answered sheepishly.

Ron closed his mouth. "Right. Sorry about that. It's a little strange you know: The first person I would happen to meet is Harry Potter."

Harry was starting to feel a bit uncomfortable, however he knew Ron meant well. "It's fine. I'll have to get used this won't I?"

"I'm afraid so mate. Is it true that you were raised by muggles?"

"Unfortunately, yes. My aunt and uncle to be exact. I've lived with them for as long as I can remember."

A whistle from outside interrupted them. "I had better go say goodbye to my mum before we leave. I'll be back."

He hurried up and departed from the room. Harry watched him go and laid back on his seat, Hermione entering his mind for the first time since he had arrived on Platform nine and three quarters. He had made up his mind to leave the compartment and search for her when he heard a female voice inside the room.

"_Oh by Salazar, why won't you people just let me sleep? All this racket going on in my area, and none of them sound like Mistress. Must be enemies. Must be hated cruelings of my Mistress."_

"_Ghosts on the train?" _Harry wondered, scared. The compartment he was occupying was most likely haunted.

"_No, ma'am, I am not an enemy. I am a friend Mrs. Ghost-lady. I'm a new student here. I don't mean any harm," _came Harry's unknowing hiss.

"_Me, a ghost. No I'm Isabella, Queen of the Australian Taipans, the most fearful of the snakes. And a speaker? But you are neither my master or my mistress. Who are you?"_

As she spoke, Harry saw a snake appear on the window sill, materializing as if an egg had been cracked on her head and the yolk was running down her. It was olive colored, and about two and half foot long. Her head was raised to expose her smooth underbelly, and her coal black eyes seemed narrowed into slits.

A voice spoke up from behind Harry. "I'm assuming you can't speak with snakes, so let me repeat her. Who are you?"

Harry had now become scared out of his wits. He slightly trembled as he imagined how much trouble he was in now. He dared not turn around from the snake, fearing what would happen if he put his back to it. Thoroughly scared, he remained speaking in Parsletongue.

"_I'm Harry. I didn't mean to go into your compartment. Please don't let Isabella bite me."_

The girl behind him let out and audible gasp. "_You speak Parsletongue?"_

Harry was very confused. Parsletongue? Is that what they called English in the wizarding world. "_Parsletongue, no. But I do speak English."_

"_The language of the snakes. You were speaking to my snake earlier, weren't you? And you're speaking it right now."_

Harry felt as if the situation had diffused a bit and decided to turn around and face his attacker. As he did, it was his turn to gasp as he locked eyes with an familiar pair of intoxicating brown eyes.

Hermione's mouth widened in astonishment. Sure the jet black hair looked a bit familiar when she walked in, but those green eyes were something else. They immediately possessed her with a fierce, iron grip. _"How could I have missed him?" _she thought. She had spent the entire time searching for him...for Harry. A cute name.

"Hermione?" Harry asked tentatively, breaking the silence. "She's not going to bite me is she?"

Hermione laughed aloud. "Oh no, I'd never harm you Harry. _It's okay Isabella. He's...a friend._"

They stayed looking at each other and before Hermione could stop herself she ran up to Harry and enveloped him in a tight hug. "I've been searching for you everywhere!"

Harry remained stiff as a board, stunned. A hug. A hug! He smiled into the locks of wavy hair that engulfed his face, different from the braid at Diagon Alley. He hugged her back.

"Uh hi, I guess," he breathed.

Then, as if a shock raced through them, they broke apart, both entirely bathed in crimson.

They both laughed nervously then sat down on opposite sides of the compartment facing each other. Hermione clasped her hands in her lap and stared at Harry. How silly could she have been? Of course he was going to ride the train! Why did she doubt herself? He was now in front of her, looking at her equally content with those gorgeous green eyes. _"I am going to drown in them" _she thought. Eyes that spoke of something else, eyes that were hiding something. A great weight was carried in those eyes. They seemed to project hurt, longing, excitement, apprehension, and fear all at one. Something to delve into later. And what added to his enigma was the fact that he spoke Parsletongue. That should have been impossible. She unconsciously stroked Isabella on her head.

"_He's a cute one isn't he mistress?" _the snake whispered mockingly.

"_Shhhh, he might hear you!" _Hermione admonished.

Contrary to Hermione's beliefs, Harry couldn't hear. He was still quite dumbstruck from the hug before, not to mention that he was encapsulated by her stunning beauty. Her hair had been laid down in a sea of luscious curls and locks, and adorned her head, neck, and back like a wreath. She was wearing a long-sleeved green blouse, made of a cotton quality. That was combined with a black skirt that fell about her knees; the material seemed to be woven from the night sky and glistened ever so slightly in the light streaking in through the window. He watched as she whispered with her snake, and her brow furrowed in slight annoyance. He imagined that if she was angered then her anger would represent something fierce. He didn't want to encounter that. But she did look pretty with that pout...

"Harry. Harry. Harry!"

"Oh sorry. Yes?" he stuttered, shaking himself.

"I was just asking how long you've been speaking Parsletongue?"

"I'm not sure really. Maybe I could always do it. Actually, I talked to a snake earlier this summer."

"Really? Where?"

"It was at the zoo. It was the first time the Dursley's actually let me out with them. I even got ice-cream that day too. There was this giant snake behind the glass. He seemed so depressed and he was telling me how he hated all the people who tapped on his glass as if they had nothing better to do. I guess that was when I did accidental magic as well. I sort of opened the glass."

"That was you?" Hermione laughed, eyes sparkling. "I read it in the newspaper."

"Yeah it was me. My cousin fell inside of the tank."

"Sounds like he deserved it."

"Yeah. I guess he did." Harry paused a bit, not wanting the conversation to go down that path. He was saved as the door slid open and Ron entered.

"What!" growled Hermione, a little steel edging into her voice. Harry was okay, but everyone else was evil.

Ron gulped, surprised to see someone else in the compartment and said person to be hostile. "Sorry just coming back to the compartment."

"No you're not." she said matter-of-factly. "This carriage is mine."

Harry turned to Hermione. The delicate rose had just shown her thorns. "Oh Hermione it's okay. Ron came in here with me. You wouldn't mind if he and I stayed here would you? We had both stumbled upon this compartment, thinking it was empty."

With that voice he'd be a lock in Slytherin Hermione thought dreamily. She was being ridiculous. She was here to make friends wasn't she? It was time to forget about her past and open up. "Yeah sure. Sorry about that. I just don't get along well with other people. I'm Hermione by the way."

"Well you and Harry seem to be just fine," he laughed. He extended his hand, "Ron. Ron Weasley."

Hermione wrinkled her nose and stared at his hand. Oh god a Weasley! _"What the hell," _she thought, shaking his hand. Not really someone she wanted to associate with, but she could tolerate.

The boys both appeared to be oblivious of the hesitation. Harry spoke up then. "Do any of you know when we'll get to Hogwarts?"

"I'm not sure," Hermione said. "I'll go ask the conductor."

"Ask the conductor?" Ron huffed.

"Well someone has to take initiative. And while I'm gone, you all should probably put your robes on. It never hurts to be prepared. Come on Izzy."

Ron let out a yell as he just noticed the curled up serpent resting on the bench. It slunk across the floor, blinked playfully at Ron -who let out a whimper-, then slid up Hermione and wound around her arm. She waved goodbye and then exited the cabin.

"A bloody snake. Merlin," Ron breathed. "She's a bossy one isn't she? And a Slytherin if I ever saw one."

"A what?"

"Slytherin. You know, one of the founders of Hogwarts?"

"I was raised by muggles remember," Harry reminded him.

"Oh right. Well you're lucky you've got me to teach you then. Let's see, there are four houses..."

"And Gryffindor is the best," came a voice, grinning mischievously in front of them. Standing in the doorway were Ron's older brothers, the twins from before. "And you must be Harry Potter. Having you in Gryffindor would be a steal," quipped the other twin.

"Umm thanks..." Harry said, trailing off.

"Why we are rude. We haven't met anyone who hasn't heard of our fame. Anyways, I'm George, and this is Fred."

"Oh don't listen to him. _I'm _Fred and he's George."

"Quit it, both of you," Ron said. "Now him, he's Fred," he corrected, pointing at the brother who spoke first. "And he's George. They love doing this sort of thing."

"You're a spoil sport Ron," Fred twinkled, crossing his arms.

"Yeah, yeah what do you want?"

"We just came to say hello to our future lion in shining armor," offered George.

Harry was already starting to like both of them. They provided just enough humor to show that they were friends. Or more than enough, it was just a matter of prospective. "It's nice to meet you Fred and George," nodding at both of them. "Could you all enlighten me on this House system?"

What followed was an extremely one-sided description of the four Hogwarts Houses. Gryffindor represented everything pure. It housed the courageous, the strongest, and it was proven that Gryffindor "produces the greatest quantity of Light Wizards who coincidentally defeat Dark Lords." Ravenclaw was the second best. Sure they were smart, "but in all honesty, they are just a bunch of clever bookworms."

"By far the residence of the cutest witches is the house of the Raven," George whispered at one point.

"Debatable," Fred had replied, then continued. "Now we get to Hufflepuff. There's nothing to get to actually. I mean no offense, but Hufflepuff is worthless because of their Quidditch prowess. There are troll-like at Quidditch. Absolutely terrible."

"Yeah Fred is right. No defining qualities at all. Except loyalty. You'll find a great friend who will be with you thick and thin from those yellow badgers, but. And that's all your houses."

"George, that was only three," said a confused Harry. "What about Slytherin?"

"Haha, well that's because those snakes aren't really worth my breath," George grinned. "Fred, if you will."

"Sure, of course. Slytherin is evil. Good for nothing, low-life rats. Basically they're a common room full of thieves, murderers, and Dark Wizards. The official version is that they are cunning and ambitious. My opinion is that they are conniving and arse-holes. You-know-who was in Slytherin too. Do with that what you will. And there is one more important thing."

"And what would that be?"

"Slytherin has the prettiest witches, hands down. The only thing is, they're all crazy. You'll understand the code another time, but the hotter they are, the crazier they become. It makes a steadily increasing line on a graph."

"Crazy? That doesn't make any sense."

"Trust me it will," George interrupted. "Think of it this way: They're in Slytherin for a reason." He clapped a hand on Harry's shoulder. "Well boy-who-lived, you got an early lesson from us."

"Yes saviour," Fred mocked worshiped, grabbing Harry's other shoulder. "It was nice meeting you. We'd love to stay here and worship you but we need to find Lee."

"Jordan?" Ron asked.

"Yup. Fred, Lee, and I need to set the pranking schedule a bit earlier. We're third years now," he said, buffing his nails. "It's time we stepped our game up." With a parting wink (that eerily appeared simultaneously) they skipped out the door.

"They're...different," Harry started.

"You don't even know the half of it," Ron confirmed.

They relaxed in the cabin and opened up to each other about their lives. Harry recounted all the difficulties he had with the Dursleys, something he never thought he would share with anyone. Ron went over the struggles of having six siblings, and how most of his items were second hand. Not that he didn't appreciate it. He just wished for new things sometimes. The two boys friendship seemed bonded when the trolley lady came in with an array of sweets. There was so much candy, he had so much money, he had never shared before, and all Ron had was a sandwich. It was the perfect opportunity and they spent time laughing and sampling the candy until the door slid open again.

In marched a familiar looking boy, flanked by two others. As Harry took in the silky blond hair and the pale face, he remembered him as the boy from Madam Malkin's. The two boys were on either side of him like body guards, and with their meaty bodies they resembled gorillas. "There's a rumor going around that Harry Potter is in this cabin. Is it true?" the blonde-haired questioned.

"What's it to you Malfoy?" Ron growled.

The Malfoy boy turned and sneered at Ron. Harry didn't really much care for this boy. "I thought I smelled trash in here. But that's just you Weasley. I'm surprised you could even afford a trunk for school, what with your fifty brothers and sisters." As Ron reddened and grew a venomous expression, Malfoy turned to Harry and extended his hand. "I'm Draco, Draco Malfoy. I remember you from the robe shop. Why didn't you say you were Harry Potter? You should learn how to pick your friends. _I _can help you with that."

Harry glanced down at the outstretched arm. He didn't have very many friends yet, but he had enough to know that he didn't want to associate with a person like Draco. He casually put both hands in his pockets and replied, "I think I'm capable of deciding who I want to be friends with, thank you very much."

Draco face become astonished, then twisted to anger. "Have it your way Potter. Just remember you don't want an enemy of the Malfoy's. Crabbe, Goyle. Let's go."

As they left the compartment, Harry let out an exasperated sigh. "Today has been so stressful and busy. It's as if that door has been opening all day."

"Definitely. Thanks back there Harry."

No problem, that's what friends are for," Harry smiled.

The entire next hour passed by as Harry and Ron tried more candy till they crashed and settled to silence. Ron was daydreaming, and Harry was wondering. Hermione had been gone for almost two hours now. Could she have gotten lost? Or maybe she didn't want to sit with two boys. _"I'm sure she just met up with some of her other friends," _Harry assured himself. Little did young Harry know.

XXX

Hermione skipped to the front of the train, nearly floating. "I found him, I found him, I found him," she sang to herself. She had found Harry, him and his total, breathtaking glory. And the way Harry smiled at her when he saw her had Hermione practically twirling up the aisle. This day was tuning out to be better than she could have ever dreamed. She just needed to talk to the conductor and then spend the rest of the train ride with Harry...and Ron too.

She had just completed another cloud-nine twirl when she came face to face with a girl with long, golden hair.

"_Crap," _was her only thought.

"Hello Hermione,"

"Hi Daphne," Hermione bit out.

Here we go. The first overturned stone of her past. Daphne Greengrass, always with the 'gang' of girls by the sandbox, her and the likes of Pansy Parkinson and Millicent Bulstrode. Probably the worst times of Hermione's life. The funny thing was, Daphne wasn't really into what her friends were doing. Her blues eyes looked questioning.

"Oh come on Hermoine, don't tell me you don't like me. All that other stuff was in the past. We can be friends can't we?"

No.

No.

No.

The right thing to do would be to say no and let Isabella sink her teeth into Daphne's neck right there and then. "I guess so." Stupid!

"That's great!" Daphne squealed.

Merlin, _that_ was going to get annoying. _"Please don't be in Slytherin."_

"So what have you been getting up to Hermione? I haven't seen you in ages."

"_I wonder why." _"Nothing much," Hermione said, trying to push her away with vagueness.

"Oh well you've got to tell me about it. What are you doing? Oh silly question! You're trying to find a place to sit. It is pretty crowded isn't it? Aren't you a Pureblood, why didn't you come early? No matter, you can just sit with me!" She grabbed the auburn-haired's arm and pulled her toward the nearest cabin, presumably hers.

Hermione tried to pull away, but Daphne's grip was iron tight. "Daphne, it's alright..."

"Oh nonsense Hermione. This will be a chance for us all to catch up."

They entered and soon Hermione was surrounded by people should would rather not have seen ever. Pansy, Millicent, and Tracey were all in the room, staring up at her while she glared defiantly back at them.

"Hermione," Pansy acknowledged.

"Pansy," she said, as if the name tasted like orange juice right after brushing one's teeth.

The air became thick with a sudden tenseness as each witch felt each other out. Only for it to be cut immediately.

"Oh come on, we're all friends here," Daphne stated, moving to a seat with Hermione. Hermione huffed and sat down as well.

The next hour and a half were spent discussing the most useless and petty things that only immature girls could find entertaining.

Fashion: "Wow Hermione where did you get that skirt? It's positively smashing! Was it from Wicked and Vogue?" "No."

To drama: "Oh and when Melissa told Griffin that he wasn't the warlock for her, I felt absolutely terrible. Weren't you so upset Hermione?" "No."

To future plans: "Well I for one might just go into Charms work, but if that doesn't work out, I'll just marry a rich medi-wizard and raise my kids at home. Wouldn't you want to stay home and raise kids Hermione?" "No. Hell no."

On and on they kept going, from nails, to Houses, to their vacations, to their parents ("_Snobbish rich kids," _Hermione thought), and then finally to the feast: Boys and gossip.

"So girls," began Daphne, casually leaning back in her chair. She vaguely reminded Hermione of a lioness on the prowl. "How's the pool?"

"What?" Millicent asked, a little slow on the uptake.

"Ugh come on Millicent. The guys. Found any cute ones?"

Hermione could feel herself starting to blush. Well there was one...

"Draco," said Pansy dreamily. "Just wait, by the end of the year I'm going to be bethroned to him."

"Okay keep dreaming," Hermione blurted out, shocking herself. She couldn't stop however. "Draco is probably the biggest idiot if I ever saw one."

"Agreed!" Tracey added.

Daphne turned devilishly toward Hermione. "Ooh Hermione, this is most you've spoken all day. I'm presuming we've found a topic you like?" Without waiting for Hermione to give an answer she continued. "I feel like you want Draco all to yourself."

Hermione visibly shuddered. "Eww. No."

"Well, what about...well you know."

"Who, Millicent?" Daphne questioned. Merlin she was all over the place.

"Well, there's this rumor that Harry Potter is going to Hogwarts."

Hermione hissed deeply and saw red. That blasted idiot who killed her Uncle and who in turn made her Father's powers lost forever? She couldn't wait til she got her hands on him. She'd have Isabella nice and ready once they arrived at Hogwarts. "And what about him?"

Daphne's eyes glazed as if seeing gold. "What about him? Nothing, just that apparently THE Harry Potter is on this train."

Hermione began to choke. "What! He's on the train?!"

"I knew you'd be interested. Or you've already seen him? Tryna play dumb so you can keep him to yourself, huh?"

"What! No! Trust me, I'd know if I had seen him. I can't stand that kid. I'd rather stay with Draco for the rest of my days."

"But you don't understand Hermione," said Daphne, inching steadily closer to Hermione's side. "It's complicated. Not only is he mega-famous, but the rumors are going around that-"

"That he is gorgeous!" Millicent finished.

"That's what I've heard," Tracey confirmed. "I'm mean I haven't seen him, but everyone has been sneaking and taking glimpses into his compartment. That Ravenclaw prefect, Clearwater, said that she went by during her rounds and couldn't help but look in. She said, and I quote, "For a first year, he's hot."

"He's no Draco, but his eyes are amazing, and his messy hair is cute. In a standoffish, I-don't-care sort of way."

"Okay Pansy. Anyway, sucks he's a Gryffindor." Daphne sighed. "You might be his type Hermione."

"_Really?_ Enlighten me."

"Well I mean he must be the good type. And you're like an evil bad girl. You know what they say. Opposites attract. Unless you've changed and you're a lion now."

Hermione made a retching sound and stood up. "Nope." She pulled out Isabella from her pocket and stroked her. He smirked as she finally made Daphne squirm. "No, I don't really think so. I should really get back to my compartment." _And in compartment I mean Harry._

"Aww Hermione, you're being defensive. I bet you have a crush on him."

"Shut up Daphne," fare-welled Hermione.

As she walked down to the back of the express, she couldn't help but glance into the passing windows. There was nothing to distinguish which cabin held that stupid Potter and which did not. There weren't any large crowds, nor were there lines outside of the sliding doors neither. There was no window that held an 'absolutely stunning boy' either. Just normal kids enjoying the ride, conversing with friends, or sleeping. Average train ride.

She began to think what she would do if she came face to face with her Uncle's murderer. Father would want her to either kill him, or use him. All she knew is she didn't like him, wouldn't stand him, and would be perfectly fine doing away with him.

XXX

"Hermione's been gone for a while hasn't she?" Harry asked, flipping around his Dumbledore card that he got from a chocolate frog.

"Yeah the little Slytherette has. Oh speak of the devil," Ron answered as the door began to slid ajar. "Oh never mind," he corrected, pulling himself off of the bench.

Into the door walked two people. The first stumbled in looking a little forlorn. He was of average height and a little on the chubby side; his pudgy skin gave him a thick baby face. His round, almond eyes were wide and sad. Behind him entered a polar opposite. She was a girl, just as tall as the boy, and had a commanding, confident air about her. Long black hair flowed down her back and shoulders, ending in a soft hazel-colored curl. The darkness of her hair framed her slightly tanned face and high cheekbones. Some of her bangs demurely covered her ice blue eyes, yet they still shone with unparalleled resplendence. She smiled cheerily at Harry with blazing teeth and winked at him.

"Hey guys, two orders of business," she greeted. Her voice was of the soft, playful quality. Siren-like, from the Greek Mythology books he read in school. Flawless. "First, you're Harry Potter aren't you?"

"Yeah I am. And you are?"

"Alexis, Alexis Kaydith. Would you mind if I saw your scar? Do you have one?"

Harry pulled up the hair out of his forehead to reveal his thin, lightning bolt scar. "Oh that's so cool," she said. She turned to Ron. "And who are you? Wait, red hair...are you a Weasley?"

"Uhhhh..."

"Yes, this is Ron," Harry replied, covering for his dumbstruck friend. "How has the train ride been going so far?"

"Oh you know, so-so. I've actually ridden the Hogwarts express a bunch of times. All of my brothers and sisters have graduated Hogwarts long ago. And my big sis, well she's the second youngest, was a seventh year last year and I rode with her last year."

"Oh your not muggleborn?"

"What. Oh goodness no! The Kaydith's have been purebloods around for centuries. I'm going to be the strongest and smartest witch of our generation." _"Well,"_ Harry thought. "If I were you, I'd stay inside of this cabin. And deny that you're Harry Potter. The thirst to see you is getting pretty serious out there."

"Thanks I guess. I'll keep that in mind."

"Great," she smiled. Her face was glowing for absolutely no reason. Maybe this is what an angel looks like. Harry shook his head quickly. He just needed to lie down and ignore everyone for the entire train ride.

"You said there was something else?"

"Oh yes right. You see, Neville here seems to have lost his toad." She pointed at the boy.

"Yes, his name's Trevor," Neville said. "He's a little big, and green with darker green spots. I haven't seen him since we got on the train"

"I'm sorry Neville. Ron and I have been in here since morning and haven't seen him. Is there someone on the train who could help you find it? Or is there something like a lost and found?"

"Hmm lost and found? That's a muggle phrase, isn't it Harry?" Alexis asked.

"Oh yeah, sorry. I meant a place that collects lost items."

"I don't know about that, but maybe we could talk to the prefects. Do you all happen to know where they could be?"

"I dunno." Harry laughed. "I don't know what prefects are to begin with."

"That's fine. Come on Neville, on to the next one."

As they turned to leave, Ron finally spoke up. "Hermione went up to the conductors cabin. Maybe you could check there."

Alexis froze and her voice grew hard. "What?" she asked, just as the door she was holding slid open.

"Harry..." Hermione words remained in her mouth as she and Alexis faced each other. Alexis flipped her hair to her other shoulder and spoke testily. "Hmm...Hermione."

"Alexis," Hermione replied, flipping her hair in the same, if not more exaggerated manner.

Now it was not so correct to say that Hermione never had a true friend. She did at one point and she was glaring right at her. In the past one would have thought the two to be sisters. They did everything together. They even possessed the same capacity of intellectual prowess and curiosity. The perfect yin to the other's yang. As Hermione was doing her extra studying, Alexis used to come over and participate as well. Except for the Dark Magic. That was the only thing they ever argued about. It all came to a head when they were eight.

"'_Mione, what are you doing now," Alexis had asked._

"_Lexi, you won't even believe what I've found." Hermione bubbled._

_Alexis rolled her eyes. "Seeing as you are holding a book that looks black and blood-stained, not to mention that it has numerous locks, I'm just going to assume that it's bad."_

"_Bad," Hermione scoffed. "Not bad, but deliciously amazing. It's just an old potions book."_

"_An old, _Dark Magic_ potion book."_

"_Yeah yeah whatever whatever. We're going to make a potion today."_

"_I don't think so. We're not doing anything. You already know how I feel about that stuff."_

"_Merlin Lexi, stop being such a girl. How are we gonna be the best Dark Witches if you can't even stomach Dark Magic?"_

"_How about because we're not going to be Dark Witches?"_

"_You'll change your mind. Anyway look what I found on page 54." She tapped her wand on the center lock. "Dracalora," she intoned, using a modified unlocking charm._

"_What is is?" Alexis yielded, the more blessed of the two with intrigue._

"_Its a type of Sleeping Draught. See, it makes the victim enter a sleep for 5 hours. They can't be woken up at all; no spell can revive them. During the five hours, the drinker experiences the worst collection of nightmares known to man, tailored specifically for him/her. And then, at the turn of the fifth hour, they die."_

"_Hermione! That's evil. Why does that sound enticing to you?"_

"_Come on Alexis! I know you think its interesting. I mean what about...what about the genius it took to experiment with that?"_

"_Stop trying to use my curiosity against me Hermione! This is wrong, sick, and evil. We can't possibly make this."_

_Hermione smirked at her. "Of course we could make this. And we will." Her face then became impassive. "Then we'll invite Pansy, Millicent, Tracey, and that insufferable Daphne for a tea party and give them this."_

_Alexis gaped at her friend shocked, as if seeing her for the first time._

"'_Mione! How could you even think of doing something like that?"_

"_My God Alexis, you are so pathetic. Don't you hate them as much as I do?"_

"_I dislike them yes, but I would never imagine killing them!"_

"_Fine!" Hermione yelled. "Leave then. I'll just make this myself."_

"_I can't let you do that either," she growled, whipping out her wand. "Incendio!" A stream of hungry flames jumped from her wand and engulfed the book. _

"_Ha, do you learn anything Alexis?" The book stubbornly stayed put under the fire, and after the spell extinguished, it didn't seem any less worse for wear._

"_Damn it! Fiendifyre!"_

"_Noooo!"_

_A controlled devil of a flame erupted from Alexis' wand and thoroughly consumed the dark book. It arched up in a purple plume of smoke and disappeared._

"_Alexis how could you!" Hermione screamed._

"_I'm would say I'm sorry, but I'm not." She flicked her wand to try end the spell, but the flames raced from her wand, and, as was customary for cursed fire, grew out of control. A jaw broke loose and devoured a nearby bookcase. The parchments and books on the shelf burst into flame and burned ferociously under the intense heat. Her father's personal study was being dissolved into ruin. "Merlin!" Alexis yelled then ran out of the room, the house and into the front lawn._

"_Get back here!" Hermione roared. She gave chase to Alexis and unsheathed her wand. "REDUCTO!" she cried as she burst through the door._

"_Protego!" _

_A wispy blue shield covered Alexis, but it was no match for Hermione's Reducto fueled by anger. Alexis twisted and fell upon impact. Hermione didn't let up however._

"_Stupefy! Stupefy! Confrigo!"_

_Fearful, Alexis got up and nimbly avoided the two Stunners but caught the Blasting Curse straight into her chest. She landed a ways away and got up heavily, coughing. "Hermione!"_

_Hermione paid her no mind. "Sectumsempra!" she yelled, catching Alexis free arm. She howled painfully as welts and slices traversed her arm. _

"_So you want to play that way huh? Crucio!"_

_Hermione expertly dodged the unforgivable. Please. Her father had been teaching it to them since they were six. "And you didn't like Dark Magic," she mocked. _

_Alexis backed toward the fence, wand held ready. "Just stay away from me."_

"_Leave. If I ever see your face around here again, I'll kill you."_

_Alexis didn't wait to test her on it. She turned and scampered away, severing what could have been the greatest duo to have ever existed._

Hermione pulled herself from her mindless wandering. "What are you doing here?"

"I was just here _helping _Neville find his toad, when I started talking to Harry. You said his name when you walked in. You must have snagged a great one haven't you?"

"Are you done here?" Hermione asked, not falling for the bait. "Because if you are you can leave."

"Oh sure I will. We were just leaving anyway. C'mon Neville." She winked at Hermione and sang, "Bye Harry!"

"Bye Alexis," said a once again oblivious Harry. He waved as she smiled at him.

"I hope we're in the same house."

"Me too," he laughed.

Hermione stared at the proceedings disgustedly. No. What did that little whore-cat think she was doing? Absolutely disgusting. If she ended up in Slytherin with her and Harry, she just might have to object to idiot Dumbledore. She coughed loudly into her hand. "This is cute and all, but get out."

"Fine. See you at the feast Harry,"

"Okay see you later Alexis."

"Bye Alexis!" Ron said, eyes still sparkling.

They then left the room, but not without another death stare match between Hermione and Alexis.

"I can't stand her!" Hermione huffed, as the doors closed for the final time.

"She seemed pretty nice to me," Harry defended.

"Yeah, she seemed pretty," Ron added.

"Did something happen between you two?"

She should tell him. Then again she couldn't. She couldn't reveal anything about her past. Maybe later. Besides, there was no way she'd be in Slytherin with them anyway. "No, not really. We just don't get along well I guess," she said, innocently looking down at her shoes. "I just knew her when I was younger."

"Oh." Harry had realized earlier that Hermione was probably like him. As in she didn't have any friends and the people she did meet were more than likely cruel to her. Alexis might have been one of those people.

"But its okay!" Hermione said cheerfully. "_Let's see if he'll still wants to talk to her._"

They spent the rest of the train ride talking about non-essential things, Harry and Ron happy that they weren't interrupted on a constant basis. Harry even more relieved that no one else came into the cabin questioning the whereabouts of one Harry Potter. They shared the rest of the candy and treats with Hermione, who had surprisingly never had most of the varieties available: "So it's not a real frog?" "No silly, just chocolate!" and "Eww, this is horrible!" "Like I told Harry, _never_ try the green ones." They relaxed in each other's presence, telling little stories here and there about their childhood. Harry and Hermione noticed that the other had generic, if any, things to say. They finished the final leg of their journey playing Exploding Snap and Wizard Chess. Harry, being muggle-raised just watched; Hermione completely and thoroughly destroyed Ron at every chess match they played.

"But I've never lost," Ron whimpered after the 7th loss.

"Well, seeing as I don't loose, I guess one could get used to it," she yawned. As she was talking, they felt the train slow down and then eventually come to a stop. "

"I'm guessing it's time," Harry said, excitement flowing from his voice.

"Yup mate. Tonight, you become a wizard. Welcome back to the wizarding world, Harry."

"Thanks Ron."

A frown found it's way on the lone witch's face. That was a very strange way to phrase that. Ron was a bit quirky, however, so maybe it wasn't really that strange.

They joined the steady stream of people out of the Express and onto the dark grounds of Hogwarts. From what Harry could see of the outline, it was a giant castle. Everyone looked like reapers of the night with their black robes on and they made their way in a general swarm around the tracks of the train. A familiar voice boomed out, "Firs years, Firs years, right over here."

"Hagrid!" Harry greeted.

"Harry! How's it goin? Did yer enjoy the train ride?"

"I sure did! I can't wait to go to the castle."

"Don't yeh worry 'bout that. Yer almost there. Now run along to the boats. Firs years to the boats!" he yelled, directed toward the others.

They all entered the boats that were lined up against the shore of the great lake. When everyone was settled, the wooden transportation moved on their own as if animated and pushed closer to the school. The time among the first years passed by in climatic silence. Each let their dreams and expectations simmer about them. Visions of grandeur, of blazing sparks and voluminous clouds, of lengthy incantations, and of untold wizarding glory (in a few select cases) occupied the consciousness of these nervous first years. Before they knew it, they were dried up and in an anteroom of the castle, under the gaze of a stern-faced witch.

Professor McGonagall got them ready for the sorting and left them to themselves. Everyone moved into a general consensus of alphabetical order. Many people were boasting to others about how much of a lock they would be in a certain house.

"I'm obviously going to Slytherin, just like my Father," came the slimy voice of Draco.

A few students had an ignorant view of Hufflepuff house. "I bet that crybaby Longbottom and his dumb toad will become a puff!" 'whispered' a skinny boy named Theodore Nott. A Slytherin if Harry saw one.

Many of the muggleborns didn't even know what to expect. They did not have anything against any house, or legacies to watch, yet they were the most anxious of them all. Speaking of legacies, Ron was starting to look pale, his freckles displaying prominently on his face. Besides Fred, George, and Percy, Ron had two other brothers, both of whom were had been in Gryffindor. Being the youngest brother, Ron had an unparalleled amount of expectations. Harry felt for him.

He looked back behind him and gave his friend a thumbs up. "Good luck Ron."

"Thanks," he replied, smiling a bit.

Hermione was in another place altogether. She was right in front of the two people she couldn't stand the most: Daphne and Alexis. To be honest, Hermione wasn't worried in the slightest. There was no doubt she would be in Slytherin. And if the Sorting Hat happened to commit blasphemy, she'd just beat the threads off the hat until it corrected itself. So no, Slytherin was a lock. And Alexis Miss Angel Kaydith was nothing if she wasn't a stuffy Gryffie. That left Daphne. She was clever, Hermione would give her that. And cunning too, why not? But ambitious? That was laughable. Maybe Ravenclaw. Then there was Harry. He seemed like an honest, likable person. Toutings of a Gryffindor. He was a Slytherin though, that she was sure. The only problem was that he was muggleborn. Any House was fine as long if it wasn't with that snake Alexis. She glanced back at Harry who was near the end of the line. She couldn't shrug off the feeling that he was hiding something. The way his jades kept revolving furtively around the room and the obviousness in which he tried to eavesdrop on other people's conversations. She'd just ask him during the feast. And if he didn't want to share...well, she did have amazing eyes.

And what would probably be the highlight of her night would be the unveiling of Harry Potter. She searched among the first years. She hadn't seen him throughout the train ride, and it seemed as if most of the assembled didn't know where he was either.

After the hat -"a talking hat for crying out loud!"- finished singing, it was time. Finally, the Sorting was about to begin. Professor McGonagall gave the necessary run down of directions then called the first name. "Abbot, Hannah."

A timid looking girl with blond hair and brown eyes slowly walked into the middle of the Great Hall, staring into the sea of students before her. Their eyes were trained intently on her as she sat down on the rickety, three-legged stool. The multitude of floating candles above them seemed to flicker quite ominously, then McGonagall placed the hat on Hannah's head.

"HUFFLEPUFF!" the hat yelled, and the sorting was officially underway.

As a boy by the name of "Boot, Terry" got sorted into Ravenclaw, the formerly confident Hermione was feeling a little nervous. She was very smart. Would her father be upset if she went to Ravenclaw? Soon the sure future meat-head, "Goyle, Gregory" became a Slytherin and she was next.

"Granger, Hermione," came the voice of Mrs. McGonagall.

As she looked up to the front of the room, she saw a peculiar sight. The idiot of a headmaster seemed to jump slightly in his chair. His eyes widened ever so slightly in surprise, and a frown touched his wrinkled features. While before he had been watching the children getting sorted in nonchalant patience, now he gazed at her intently.

"_Jeez, it's not like I'm Harry Potter," _she thought annoyed. She calmly walked to the front of all the tables and sat down regally on the stool. She then casually crossed one leg over the other and folded her arm. Without another moment wasted, the hat soon covered her head and locked the crowd of students from her sight.

"_Hmm," a voice intoned, pressing upon her conciousness, her very mind, with an alien and powerful feeling. "You possess so many qualities and strengths. The question is: Where to put you?"_

"_Slytherin," she replied immediately, not speaking exactly, but thinking._

"_Yes, that would be a good choice, wouldn't it?" he mused. "Merlin's beard, you have might just be the most Slytherin girl I've ever met!"_

"_Thank you."_

"_There is so much cunning, and so much evil in one little girl. But you seem tainted somehow."_

"_Tainted?" she asked._

"_Yes tainted," he repeated, but not delving forward. "You would be perfect for Slytherin. But you and I know that you don't belong there. You're not the right type."_

"_Not the right type?" she questioned, becoming fearful and a little bit annoyed. "How so?"_

"_But you don't know? It's not my place to say then. I mean it would break the proverbial 'norm' to put you Slytherin. It just wouldn't be right. Can't very well put you in Hufflepuff either. Loyalty? You'd betray your own father."_

"_How dare you say that? I would never do such a thing!"_

"_All things come to pass. It's a long shot, but you could work in Gryffindor. You already want to go there anyway. You have an ulterior motive, I see it in your mind."_

"_I don't know who you're talking about" she thought, mind wandering to Harry._

"_I can still hear you."_

_Hermione changed the tract of her thoughts quickly. "What about Ravenclaw?"_

_The hat let out a loud and throaty bellow of laughter. "That was just too funny Hermione."_

"_But Ravenclaw is for the intellectually curious."_

"_Why yes of course. But the things you are 'interested' in are not, and never will be taught at Hogwarts." He then took on a serious tone. "Hear this Hermione. You will do great things. Both terrible and great. But it's only you who gets to decide how your actions define you. You could be the greatest Dark Lady Britain has ever know. Or you could become the white witch."_

"_I'm glad you see me as the Dark Lady, for that is what I will become."_

"_Time will tell," the hat finished thoughtfully. To the expectant gathered he yelled, "SLYTHERIN!" _

The Slytherin table erupted into applause, while the other three tables clapped politely. She walked toward the table and smiled, but under the surface her mind was swirling. Don't belong there? Not the right type? _Tainted? _What did the hat mean? Did a sorting ever take that long? She should just write a letter to her Father about it tomorrow. Hermione stopped herself. She couldn't. Not after the hat said she would betray her father. Maybe she could just tell Harry about it when he came to the table.

Speaking of Harry, he hadn't been sorted yet. He was fidgeting near the back as Daphne got sorted into Slytherin and ran to sit by her side ("Yay, Hermione! This is so cool! We'll be dorm mates won't we?" "No.") He even waved at Kaydith as she turned back to smile at him. Merlin how she hated her. The hat barely even touched her head before it screamed, "GRYFFINDOR!" to great applause. Harry still hadn't been called.

"This is taking long," she noted to Daphne.

"Just wait, the best part is coming up," she replied eagerly.

XXX

Harry waved at Alexis as she turned back to smile at him. _"She's very nice," _he thought to himself. He was shocked as the hat yelled "Gryffindor!" before it was fully on her head. From Harry's speculations, it took maybe fifteen to thirty seconds for the hat to decide what house one belonged to. Except for Hermione. She took almost five minutes!

He glanced over at her. She seemed a little conflicted, still pretty, and was talking with a blonde girl next to her. Daphne was it. Anyway, Ron was right. A Slytherette. Was she evil? That was silly. Just because you were Slytherin didn't make you a dark wizard. Fred and George were just joking. Even with that line of reasoning, Harry was adamant that he did not want to be in Slytherin. He could only imagine what everyone would say if he went into that house.

"Patil, Parvarti." An Indian girl was next after her twin and moved nervously to the stool. After about ten seconds of deliberation, she was placed into Gryffindor. Harry felt a bead of sweat fall down his forehead. It was time. All the wondering and angst of just a few short hours had come to a head.

"Potter,..Harry." The effect was instantaneous. The audience became hushed as if someone had thrown a blanket over meowing kittens. Every pair of eyes turned on him as his feet guided him toward Professor McGonagall. Then the whispers started.

"Did she say Harry Potter?"

"Potter. The Harry Potter?

"I though he was dead."

"I knew I saw him on the train."

"He's kind of cute though."

"All hail Harry Potter!" came a familiar duo from the Gryffindor table.

The voices started off softly, but as the inhabitants of Hogwarts speculated further, their mutterings increased into a maelstrom of noise.

"Bloody Hell! She did say Harry!"

"Do you see a scar?"

"_That's _Harry?"

"A Gryffindor obviously."

"What about Hufflepuff? Now that would be something!"

On and on the ad-lib continued as Harry made his way along the endless path to the Sorting Hat. He could feel the eyes on him, could sense the whole rooms speculations about him, could distinguish every single sentence spoken about his behalf. After an eternity he reached the blessed stool and sat down, awaiting the Professor to place the hat on his head.

Harry gazed out at the wall of faces, trying to spot a familiar brick. He only had a little bit of time but soon found Hermione...and gasped in surprise. For as the all-knowing hat descended upon him, he saw Hermione's eyes glazed over, projecting bloody murder.

"_My, my, my. If it isn't Harry Potter. It's a pleasure to meet you."_

_Harry looked around, but didn't. Another person was inside him. "Er...nice to meet you too, Mr. Sorting Hat sir."_

"_You're too kind. And you don't have to be afraid. I'm just going to sort you and that will be all."_

"_Okay," Harry consented._

"_You know, I haven't met a mind filled with this much potential since Dumbledore and Tom. Well I take that back. There was also a young lady earlier."_

_Harry had a thought who that could be._

"_It might be her, and it might not be her Mr. Potter. Anyhow, we have more important business to take care of. Let's put you in Slytherin and be done with it."_

"_No!" protested Harry, panicking. "Anything but Slytherin."_

"_Really? But you'd be perfect in Salazar's House. I don't advocate much for houses, but you would thrive in Slytherin. Your entire life is open to me. Your thirst to prove yourself shines brighter than any young ambition I've seen. You've got a good amount of creativity to you. Finely tuned, it could become dastardly cunning."_

"_Just please, anything but Slytherin."_

"_Why Harry? Just because you're in Slytherin doesn't make you evil. Sure they produce the most Dark wizards, but there is something you've got to realize. A house does not define any one individual. When it comes down to it, everyone has a choice to make that will direct and dictate the events of their life. And they can make a choice to turn on the choice they made earlier. And they can make a choice on top of the previous one. Do you see where I'm going with this? Life is full of choices, and it's up to the individual to make the decisions that benefits him or her. Besides, to be bluntly frank, your opinion is irrelevant. You'd do great things in Slytherin Harry"_

_Harry grew silent. Everything the hat spoke was true. He so desperately wanted to prove himself. To the bigoted Dursleys for starters. To the doubters, for there definitely were going to be some. Those who believed that what he did as a baby was a fluke. They were just waiting to pounce on him once he turned out to be a mediocre wizard. And he wanted to make the two people he had never met proud of him. They deserved that at least. Almost all of the wizarding world knew of James and Lily Potter; they must have been worthy of that respect. _

_He did want to do great things. Isn't that why he jumped at the description of Hogwarts, dreams constantly filled for the past month with what he could achieve with magic? Now that he dwelled on the thought, he realized that the nagging feeling he'd always experienced was really him knowing that he was destined for great things. Bigger and grander things than the cupboard he knew all his life. Slytherin could be his chance._

"_No," Harry said, firm. "I realize that I may have 'potential', but the way Slytherin goes about it is something I would not like to take part of."_

"_Excellent Harry!" Harry would swear that if he could see the hat, it's eyes would be twinkling. "I had this conversation once, long ago. A young man in nearly the identical situation as you. The same thoughts you just had ran through his mind as well. But, as he always would be later in life, he was swayed by power. You will do great things Harry. Now of that I am sure."_

"_Thank you, sir."_

"_So much politeness. Kids your age need your kind of manners. Well if not Slytherin, must be..._

"GRYFFINDOR!"

A thunderous applause met Harry's ears as the Sorting hat was removed from his hair and ears. He began to feel a tad lightheaded as whistles and screams came from the Great Hall. Phrases such as "We got Potter, we got Potter!", "I told you he'd be in Gryffindor,", and "Merlin, he was under that hat for half an hour!" accosted Harry as his made his way off the stool and to the boisterous Gryffindor table.

"Thank God that's over," he breathed aloud. Walking down the table he received numerous pats on the back and well wishes and congratulations. He scanned the opposite table to find Hermione. Why had she looked like that? He caught her gaze only to find that her demeanor had not changed. There was no comfort or welcome in her eyes, only a white-hot fury.

Harry tore his gaze away quickly, a little stung. What had happened in those few short minutes? He knew that she wanted to be in the same house, but surely she must have understood if the house put him in Gryffindor. Or rather that he had begged for Gryffindor. Then again she seemed...well, upset might be a severe understatement before he had even placed himself on the stool. He was shaken from his thoughts as he was literally shaken by a blur in black hair.

"Harry! Harry! Oh I just knew you'd be in Gryffindor!" Alexis squealed, hugging Harry tightly. "Didn't I tell you we'd be in the same house?"

"Yeah I guess," Harry laughed. Alexis' smile had a way of making him forget about what ever he was thinking. "I'll probably have to pay attention to you more often."

"You got that right!" she said, winking. "What are you standing there for? Here sit with me!" And without waiting for him to agree or disagree she pulled him down onto the bench.

"You were under that hat for ages!" she remarked, watching the commotion as Professor McGonagall attempted to restore order back to the room.

"Really?" Harry asked, genuinely surprised. He couldn't have been under there for more than 5 minutes at the most. "Well what about you? The hat wasn't even on your head yet!"

"Haha yeah I know," she said, waving as Dean Thomas, a dark-skinned boy, joined the Gryffindor table. "I knew I was going to be in Gryffindor all along. There was literally no doubt in my mind. I have fourteen, yes fourteen brothers and sisters, and they were all in Gryffindor. Even my parents were lions. So I guess you could say it runs in my blood."

"Wow! Talk about a dynasty!" Harry laughed. "You should have talked to Ron, he was getting pretty anxious on the train."

"Weasley, Ronald."

"Oh there he goes now. Trust me, if it's meant to be, then it's meant to be. Besides, where would he go? Slytherin?"

As if answering her question, the hat cried out, "GRYFFINDOR!"

"Way to go Ronnykins!" the twins yelled out to their brother.

Ron turned red, but took it all in stride, a smile dominating his features. He sought out Harry and sat down next to him. "Way to go mate!"

"You too Ron. You're in Gryffindor. Pressure's gone now right?"

"You bet."

"You weren't really scared of not getting into Gryffindor where you Ron?" Alexis asked.

"Well...I mean...well it could have been a possibility."

"You're thick then, you know that?" she teased.

"That's what learning's for," he jested.

Harry grinned throughout the entire exchange. A long and stressful night but now he was closing it out with two friends. Then he looked at the Slytherin table. It could have been three. He wondered if what he saw was real, then shook himself. He was just seeing things, he needed to enjoy himself and have a good time.

His eyes roamed up to the head table, where all of the professors were sitting, enjoying their meal. Hagrid was there, talking to a very short man who resembled the goblins from Gringotts. One chair was empty, presumably the chair where Professor McGonagall would occupy after the sorting. Next to it was the unnaturally timid man whom he had met at the Leaky Cauldron; Professor Quirrell was it? He was wearing a strange, large, purple turban, an irregularity from the last time he saw him. He was conversing with a man next to him. He had long, greasy black hair, and the contrast highlighted his pale skin and gaunt features. He was clad in long dark robes, and even while talking with his coal, black eyes, he projected a unique blend of boredom and commandment. As if sensing someone was looking at him, his eyes swiveled toward Harry.

A shocking pain betook Harry, and he felt as if his forehead was going to split right down the middle. The man was glaring white hot fury and disgust at him, and Harry quickly looked away, clutching his scar in pain.

"Harry! Are you okay?" came the concerned voice of Alexis.

"Yeah, I think so," Harry grunted. "Who is that?"

Alexis followed Harry's finger up to the table. "Oh, Professor Snape. That old bat? He's the potions master. Very foul. He hates everyone except for the Slytherins. That's because he's their head of house."

Harry rubbed his head and chanced a glance back up to the head table. The potions professor had resumed his conversation with Professor Quirrell. Whatever happened was peculiar and very unpleasant. From the way Snape looked at him, Harry could tell that he had a problem with him. But for what he did not have the slightest clue. _Everyone all of a sudden hates me," _Harry thought remorsefully.

After a boy by the name of Blaise Zabini was sorted into Slytherin, the best experience of Harry's young life concluded. He settled down and waited as the individual who was on his chocolate frog card stood up. The Headmaster, Professor Dumbledore, was clad in midnight blue robes, adorned with silver crescent moons and stars. His white hair and unnaturally long beard spoke of great age, but his ever-knowing face and twinkling blue eyes portrayed wisdom, longevity, and fiendish youth. After looking about and clasping his hands, he began to address them.

"There is always a time for speeches. One is appropriate now." He cleared his throat and continued. "Ego. Sum. Dignus." He then clapped his hands once and a vast array of food and delicacies appeared on the table.

"What was that?" Harry asked. Deciding he should relieve the groaning weight of the table, he piled his plate with a sample of all the strange food. The smell was completely intoxicating and it viciously reminded him that candy alone never constitutes as a meal.

"That's Dumbledore's annual pre-feast speech. Its just a three word collection of nonsense really," answered Alexis, delicately sampling her plate of sliced, honey-glazed carrots and freezing snow peas.

"Oh it's not nonsense," popped in George, who was waving his drumstick around in the manner a teacher would direct a baton. "It's rumored - which means its true- that the words he speaks every year are actually the incantations of a very ancient spell."

"Yeah, he's right," added the always present twin. Harry inwardly laughed as they were even eating the same exact meal. It was really going to be hard to distinguish them apart. "What's more, the words are actually a chain to one spell. If a first year were to memorize all the incantations from first to seventh year, upon reciting the charm they would grant themselves eternal wealth."

"Really!" Harry cried, accompanied by Ron, Dean, and Seamus, all new Gryffindors who were listening in on the conversation and conquering the feast in earnest.

"Merlin's beard!" Neville exclaimed, pulling a napkin near him and retrieving a quill - and subsequently Trevor- out of his pocket.

Alexis looked annoyed and began to masquerade as the sane realist of the group. "That's utter rubbish. If it's that easy, why isn't every Ravenclaw swimming in Galleons?"

"It's quite simple really. Haven't you ever heard of stories where seventh years would die randomly? Commonly classified as N.E.W.T anxiety or even Graduation flu?"

"Yes of course," Alexis replied. "And I'll never get N.E.W.T anxiety. I'm too classy for that."

"Well of course you won't get," started George. "That's because it's not real. You see, if the spell does not consider the caster worthy of obtaining eternal wealth, the charm becomes a curse, and it forcefully rips the magic away from the user until they have no more left."

"Then what happens?" Ron questioned, never having heard this one before.

"Then they die. What George didn't stress enough is that they have to be completely worthy and deserving. Like defeating two Dark Lords or something, and that's before they leave from Hogwarts. Now Ravenclaws, they have a mind to memorize the words for seven years, translate the words, understand them, and then go ahead and recite them. But come on, they're Ravenclaws for a reason. They're very smart and intellectual, not the type that is going to go out and vanquish a Dark Lord."

"Hey!" protested a second year Ravenclaw from the next table. She was Asian with light skin and soft, black eyes. "Quit bashing Ravenclaw. We could do anything Gryffindor can do."

"Oh Miss Chang," Fred teased, "What have I told you about staying up past your bedtime? And all this ale has made you talk crazy."

"I agree whole-heartedly. Anyways Fred wasn't really disparaging Ravenclaw. It's really the Gryffindors who you would assume to be most worthy. I mean they are brave and courageous for Merlin's sake. But you know Gryffindors. They are as impatient as can be. Could you imagine a Gryffindor waiting seven years to achieve great wealth? They'd more likely rob Gringotts, so high are our visions of grandeur. So you won't find the one person who is most qualified ever casting that spell. It's always a Ravenclaw, and they always die."

"I'm still not convinced," Alexis muttered as the food began to clear away.

"That's fine," George laughed. "We'll just place your name on the non-caster parchment."

"What about you two?" Dean asked.

"Yeah. Have you blokes started memorizing the spell?"

"What us?" Fred and George asked incredulously. Fred put his hands over his heart, in a hurt manner and George continued aghast. "Heavens no, Seamus! Why would we need eternal gold when we'll have as much as we want from being world-class pranksters?"

Alexis laughed aloud just as Dumbledore began to rise to speak again. "You two are hilarious," she whispered, still giggling into her napkin.

Harry was too full and too sleepy to heed much of what the Headmaster was relaying. His ears were tuned out as Dumbledore began to rattle of general rules and procedures until...

"Ahem — just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you…I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death."

Harry jolted upright. Painful death? _Hogwarts? _

"It is time that we all retire to our rooms and rest from such a great feast. First years, follow your prefects to your respective common rooms. Do not stray unless you would like sleep outside in the hallways." He then winked at the crowd. "I heard it gets very chilly at night. Good night to you all."

At those words, the sound of scrapping feet, moving bodies, and content conversation filled the room.

"Boy this has been a great day," yawned Ron.

Harry nodded, but wasn't paying any feast was over and he was now looking about the Slytherin side of the room. There was one brunette he needed to talk to. He was being eased on by the general flow people eager to get to their soft mattresses when he spotted her. Only Hermione was making no effort to look around for anyone. "You guys go on without me. I'll catch up in a bit."

"Didn't you hear what the Headmaster said, Harry?" Neville cautioned. He himself was sticking close to a fifth year boy, Oliver Wood ("I know this castle inside out!").

"Where are you gonna go-" Ron stopped as he followed Harry's gaze. "Oh mate, can't you wait to pick up ladies until after you've gone to bed?"

"No it's important," Harry waved off.

Alexis saw where Harry was looking to and a frown appeared on her face. "Oh Harry! Hermione? Come on just leave her," she said, grabbing his hand to pull him towards her.

Harry gently shook himself free, still not paying full attention to them. "I'll be right back," he replied, then jetted off in the other direction.

The Slytherins seemed to be going downward somewhere so Harry decided that he was just going to have a quick word and then quickly meet the Gryffindors on those long flights of stairs. He spotted her beautiful locks up ahead; she was walking with a giggling group of girls, but wasn't talking to them at all. "Hermione!" he called out, racing up to them.

Hermione and the girls with her turned around. Harry noticed that she was with Daphne, Tracey, Pansy, and Millicent - who happened to be the girl he heard talking about him when he first walked into the train.

"Ooh Hermione," cooed the blonde haired Daphne, batting her eyes at him. "Is this who you were with on the train this entire time? I think he's come for a moonlight stroll."

"Umm hi, Daphne is it?" Harry inquired.

"Merlin he already knows my name! And you're Harry. It's nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you too," he replied feeling awkward. "Can I talk to Hermione for a moment?"

"Oh, _Hermione._ Sure-"

"No!" Hermione interrupted, voice becoming ice cold. "Don't ever talk to me. Just leave Potter!"

"Wait, Hermione, what's wrong?"

"What's wrong. You! That's whats wrong." She let out an angry growl in frustration. "Don't talk to me." She promptly turned on her heels and continued with the group.

"Sorry Harry," Daphne said, not really sounding sorry. "She's always been moody."

"Yes...erm...right. Well I'll just be going now. Could you just tell her, I'm sorry for whatever it is I did?"

"Of course," Daphne replied, giving a grin that that clearly said 'I won't be doing any such thing'.

Harry waved at the group, not even caring that he had only earlier branded every Slytherin as evil, and dashed away back to where he hoped he could still find his house. He had no intention of spending his first night at Hogwarts on the cold stone floor. He was relieved to find them on the 5th landing and used his remaining energy to reach them as they gathered around a portrait of a giant woman who had dressed herself in frilly nineteenth century clothing.

"Password please?"

Percy confidently strode forward. "Caput Draconis."

As every strode in, Harry was too tired to admire his surroundings. From his hazy, sleep laden eyes he took in the circular room and the red and gold upholstery. The roaring fire place coated the room in a welcoming glow and promised to be the center of attention come the colder months.

Harry moved to follow Ron up the steps.

"'Nite, Harry."

"Good night Alexis," Harry yawned.

"Til tomorrow Alexis," Ron said, despite sleepiness, still attempting to portray bravado.

"Good night Ron," she replied.

Harry entered the room after Ron, coming into their dormitory which they shared with Neville, Seamus, and Dean. Harry moved to a four-poster bed that wondrously already had his trunk and luggage spread out for him. He tiredly slipped into his pajamas and flopped down on the bed. The stuffing was soft, soft and thick like bread dough made of cumulus clouds. The sheets seemed to be perfectly contoured to his body, hinting of a great sleep that was to come.

"How'd it go with Hermione?" Ron mumbled from the opposing bed.

"Not good Ron. Not good at all."

He turned on his head on the pillow and closed his eyes, going out like a light. Far below in the dungeons, Hermione -who had a room all to herself- turned into her pillow and screamed until she fell asleep.

Hogwarts shifted onto its foundation contently. Today had been a good day.

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**A/N - Description of wand core and wood I choose can be found at **** library/book/530/read/?chapter=4**


End file.
